You're a Wizard, Harry
by shedoc
Summary: Voldemort has been dead for ten years. Where are they all now? RonHarry (complete)
1. Part 1 Memorial Day

Disclaimer - fill in the blanks, usual waffle, yadda yadda yadda badda bing badda boom!

Warnings - Harry Ron Pairing. I'd like to apologise to the people I squicked by not warning about the implied pairing (trio fic) in Hatred. Also I'd like to urge you to read the entire first bit before writing to me to complain about what I've done. (I can't say more than that without giving the whole game away). A character has died, but not whom you might think.

Part 1 - Memorial Day

Ron lay on his back in the spring grass, staring up at the clouds that scudded across the sky and trying to spot shapes in them. Hermione had started this game once in sixth year, after a nasty blow to the head. Harry had caught on pretty quickly which had calmed her long enough to get her out of the tree, and once she was in her right mind the game continued on and off. The three of them had used it to fill the awkward silences that had started to occur, caused by Harry's seemingly inexplicable unease. Ron did it now out of a sort of melancholy nostalgia, missing the people that had played the game so innocently that year.

Today was Memorial Day. The anniversary of Harry's ghastly triumph over Voldemort. Every year there was some sort of celebration of the event, where high-level employees in the Ministry stood around and told everyone how they had helped the Boy Who Lived reach his full potential. Ron had managed to avoid it so far, the annual celebrations grating on him too much to even consider attending. Fudge had started them and there was no way that Ron was going to allow the man to use him, his grief and his losses to boost his failing political career. Hermione had gone that one time, on the first anniversary of Harry's final battle against Voldemort, but had been so upset that she hadn't attended another.

They both preferred to spend the day with family now, and Ron spent the time thinking about his sixth year at Hogwarts and all the terrible changes that had occurred. His mum called it brooding, but Ron had a lot to brood about. He'd failed the best friend he'd ever had in the most fundamental of ways, letting Harry face his destiny alone rather than supporting him with everything he had. He'd known that Harry needed him, and he'd managed to come through in superficial ways, like playing chess with him and backing him up against the Slytherin's. Unfortunately when it really mattered, Ron hadn't been there, starting with the summer that Sirius died.

Harry had been rescued from the Dursley's on his sixteenth birthday, after a month at Privet Drive. He'd written a letter every three days to Dumbledore, stating that his relatives were treating him well and he needed nothing. As their first glimpse of him proved, that was clearly not true. He'd lost more weight than was strictly healthy, become even paler than Snape, and was withdrawn from everything. He spoke when asked a direct question, but didn't offer information willingly and would sit motionless for hours on end, watching everyone around him closely. He was uncomfortable with being touched, which upset Ron's mum. She was a hands on type of mother, and the fact that her adopted son flinched when she hugged him had nearly broken her heart.

Ron and Hermione had come to an unspoken yet mutual decision that they would spend their time solely with Harry, reading, playing Wizarding games and talking about whatever came to mind. They agreed not to pressure him to join in and to always bracket him so that other people couldn't come close. Harry seemed to appreciate this, because whenever they were alone together he would relax, even close his eyes and listen to them with a small smile. After a solid week in their company, Harry would interject one-word comments into their conversations, and could be persuaded to join them in exploding snap or gob stones. He refused to speak about the attack at the Ministry, or about Sirius death. The fact that he'd reached out at all made Ron feel a lot better, something that he felt guilty for now.

Then one night, a week before school was due to start, Ron woke him from a nightmare and the coal haired teen sobbed in his arms like a little child. Ron had held him and rocked, knowing that when Harry recovered he would be mortified by his actions, but at the time his only concern was to give Harry the comfort he was so desperately seeking. They'd spent a day sitting in Harry's bed, holding each other companionably and getting comfort from giving it. Ron had whispered nonsense in Harry's ear when the other teen became fretful, soothing him back to serenity. Harry had clung to him; leaning into each touch Ron gave him and watching Ron's face intently. Whatever he was looking for he must have found, because eventually Harry allowed himself to fall asleep.

After that day Harry talked, walked and acted as usual. He was still a little subdued, but he seemed to once more join the land of the living. He preferred Ron's company at night to all others, and it was such a simple thing to ask that Ron was glad to give it. They went back to the school, started their sixth year, and if his friend spent a little more time reading than he had before, Ron dismissed it. With hindsight he wished he hadn't.

Lessons continued on as usual, and for Christmas, the Weasley's Potter's and Granger's stayed at school. Second term was ushered in with a rather spectacular match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin, and the upcoming Quidditch season was a hot topic of debate. It seemed somehow ironic that Voldemort attacked the students during a Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch match just before the Easter holidays. His Death Eaters and Dementors had descended on the stands like a foul black cloud, and the players had been forced to the ground. Voldemort himself apparated into the middle of the pitch, and Ron was not ashamed to admit to the gut wrenching terror he'd felt as Harry dropped his broom carelessly to the ground and then strode out to meet his nemesis.

Once it was all over, Dumbledore admitted that he'd known what Harry was doing and had actually put the books that Harry had used to learn the spells in the following duel where the desperate teen could find them. Ron had always known that Harry was still having bad dreams, but preferred to go for a walk around the castle at night rather than wake him or the rest of the dorm. At least that was what Ron had thought his friend was doing.

In fact, Harry had been sneaking down to the Chamber of Secrets once more, and once there he'd practiced every advanced defence and attack spell he could find. He'd taken books from the library and hidden them in the Chamber, and Dumbledore had needed Fawkes to retrieve them when it was all over. The books were very old and rare, and contained versions of spells that were no longer in use. Modern spells had replaced them, for better or worse, and the old spells had faded from most memories.

It was a measure of Harry's power that he not only managed to teach himself this advanced magic, but also that he managed not to fall into the trap his nemesis had. Harry didn't assume that just because he was capable of performing spells that would far outstrip the normal Wizard that he should. Ron sighed and wriggled on the grass, drawing his cloak closer about himself as the cold breeze plucked at it. Harry had been all alone, despite the fact that Ron and Hermione had spent all their waking hours with him.

In one of the books that Dumbledore had planted for Harry to find, there had been a spell that was known as 'return to state'. Basically it returned the thing it was cast upon back to its original state. McGonagall in Transfiguration, and the Magical Accident Reversal Squad used a version of this. However the version that Harry learned was designed to combat the earliest version of the Cruciatus curse. The oldest version of that particular curse didn't stop when the caster pointed his wand away. The curse continued until the person under it died, their hearts bursting under the strain. With the counter curse, the victim could survive, though usually they were insane at the end.

Voldemort had undergone so many Dark Rites and Rituals in order to prolong his life that his original state was not something that could survive without the support of the dark rites he had endured. When Harry cast that spell with all his strength, he managed to hold it long enough to undo each rite or ritual that Voldemort had participated in, even undoing the bond of their blood. Harry's power had driven off the Dementors, and frightened the Death Eaters into retreat or capture by the very students they were supposed to be subduing. The sheer magical force that Harry had put forth had buffeted the Quidditch players on the ground, knocking even the adult Death Eaters to their knees. Ron had struggled against it, wanting to be there for his friend, and managed to get close enough to catch Harry when he finally fell.

Voldemort was long dead. Harry had held the spell until the Dark Lord was reduced to the most basic of elements, something that not even Tom's magic could survive. Harry had sighed, a long soft susurration of air, his wand falling from numb fingers as his legs gave out. Ron had leapt forward, catching his friend and sinking to the ground beneath the slight weight. For a moment Harry had gazed up at him and Ron had rocked and whispered reassurance. Then the green eyes had slowly dulled and closed.

Harry had lain in his coma for only three weeks. Ron visited every day, and for half the night, defying his teachers instructions to rest and not worry. His mother took a room in Hogsmede so that she could visit every day, and his father joined her there each night. Dumbledore had revealed his betrayal of Harry, and Ron had never managed to forgive the old man. All the awe and respect Ron had for the Headmaster had died in the light of his machinations. He was supposed to be Harry's mentor, and yet he'd used Ron's best friend as if he was a disposable tool.

When Harry woke on the eve of third term, Ron had been there, holding his hand and smiling gentle encouragement. The green-eyed teen had rasped his name, and all Ron's pent up relief came boiling out in a boisterous kiss, right on Harry's lax lips. The surprise on his friends face had been like a shock of cold water, and Ron was glad of the excuse to leave, presented in the form of a demand by the school Matron, who rounded the privacy screens a moment later.

His cowardice - and that was what Ron saw it as - had led to him being gone when Harry was given the worst news imaginable. It had prevented him from stopping Harry making the biggest mistake of his life. Madam Pomfrey had the terrible task of informing Harry of the effects his defeat of Voldemort had wreaked on him, and the Headmaster had completed his betrayal of the Boy Who Lived by sending him into exile for the rest of his life.

Harry was almost seventeen when he became a Muggle, his magic drained away as surely as a glass of water that had been tipped over. He had chosen to go and live in the Muggle world, taking only Hedwig, his photo album and his boxed up wand with him. The Goblins at Gringotts and Dumbledore had seen to it that he had the identity papers and funds he needed, and even the Ministry had been pressured into paying a regular pension to the cast off teen.

"Ron!" his mums voice broke into his brooding thoughts and Ron got up, waving to say that he'd heard and headed down the hill towards the Burrow. Harry had disappeared into the Muggle world, and Pigwidgeon had been unable to find him. Hedwig never came to them, and Harry made no attempts to contact them at all. Ron had been heartbroken, and Hermione was inconsolable for months.

They'd become Aurors of course, and worked hard for the Wizarding world. Ron had once heard someone mutter about how they were 'carrying on for the Boy Who Lived'. The notion was appealing. Harry was a protector; his simple presence in a room had always made Ron feel better. When he'd burst into the Shrieking Shack after Ron and the newly escaped Sirius, Ron had known that things were looking up, even as he worried that Harry had just walked into a trap.

All of that had happened ten years ago today, and Ron sighed as he headed into the Burrows garden. He was twenty-seven now, as was Hermione and Harry, and every day he wondered how Harry was faring, if he was safe and happy. He'd never know, because Harry hadn't tried to contact them, and even though Ron had looked as best he could, not even Hermione could break the charms that surrounded the information that would reveal his friends location.

Tonight the Weasley's would have a special dinner, with Harry's favourite foods, and talk over their memories of the missing man. Not their memories of the Boy Who Lived: that had only been a small part of Harry and his charm. His dad would raise a toast to his missing son, and Ron would spend the night in his old room looking at the stars and wondering if things would have been different if he'd stayed instead of running from the hospital wing after that disastrously perfect kiss.

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	2. Pursuing Rogues

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Pursuing Rogues

"Good morning," Hermione's brisk voice broke into his thoughts, and Ron got up automatically, kissing her cheek and letting her past. Aurors were given a great amount of latitude in their behaviour - provided it wasn't illegal or inappropriate in public. There was one partnership that had been around for years, and regularly kicked each other in the shins. Ron had seen an even older pair pinching arses and fondling chests. A peck on the cheek barely registered, and as a greeting between childhood friends it was warm and innocent. He'd come to realise that girls bewildered more than attracted him, and had found himself a very nice boyfriend during Auror training. They broke up because the burke cheated on him, but it had been fun while it lasted.

"How was your day?" Ron asked, fishing through the pile of parchment for the report that had been flagged for their attention. Hermione sat down, locked her purse in her desk drawer as always and crossed her shapely legs. Auror training had turned his friend into a slender, graceful woman with a lovely physique. She tied her hair back in a very professional bun, and the Aurors robes fit her like they didn't for anyone else. Ron's own robes hung like a sack, and he was one of the lucky ones.

"Mum and Dad took me out to dinner," Hermione smiled fondly, "And to see some awful Muggle comedy from America. It was based on Shakespeare's Comedy of Errors of course, not that the writers credited it anywhere. You?"

"Usual family dinner. Mum says that you and your parents should come along again next year. We promise to muzzle dad."

Ron's dad still loved Muggles and had the habit of asking the most outlandish questions of them. The Grangers were used to this and bore it all with patience and good humour. Mr Granger had even made a joke about teaching Muggle Studies without a licence - which had been one of Hermione's subjects at school. The families met up every few months in a casual arrangement designed to keep the Muggles in touch with the world that Hermione lived in now.

"Have you seen this?" Hermione's voice broke into Ron's musings and he looked up at her, an eyebrow raised in question. He tapped the item flagged for their attention and he held up the thick roll of parchment in reply.

"I haven't read the report yet," he handed it over and went back to his update list. Mention was made of Memorial Day, and Ron sighed. People just didn't understand that mourning Harry's life was not a tribute - it was one of the reasons he refused to be 'honoured' on the platform. He finally understood that there was good and bad attention, and the hysteria connected to his friendship with Harry was bad. There was a slight disturbance outside their cubicle and he glanced up in time to see Cho Chang sweep past dramatically, her eyes red and her face a little pale. From experience Ron knew that she'd spend the day speaking in a tremulous yet brave voice, and allow her partner to handle the days work.

"There goes his widow," Ron muttered and Hermione's lips tightened. Chang had learned the hard way to stay well clear of Ron's partner after Hermione had slapped her one year. Chang hadn't been dating Harry at the time of his final battle, but the way she carried on you'd never know it. She'd once described herself in the Daily Prophet as 'practically a widow', which was what prompted Hermione to slap her in the first place.

"Ron," Hermione called his attention back once more, and he met her eyes sheepishly. She was used to this. Cho Chang might swan around the office tragically, but Ron's thoughts always had a tendency to wander the day after Memorial Day. She forgave him with a gentle smile, just as he would forgive her later that day for the explosion of temper that was bound to come. They both had their patterns of behaviour, and had put a lot of effort into understanding each other.

"This is a rogue Wizard," Hermione held the report out, "Swanson had it originally, but she hasn't been the same since someone dropped a house on her."

"It wasn't a whole house," Ron protested. For some reason that he couldn't identify the Muggle born Aurors found the idea of a witch having a house dropped on her funny, "It was a potting shed," he continued, "And you wouldn't be laughing if it had happened to you."

He flicked his eyes over the summary of the file, and then paged through a few of the witness reports. Swanson's partner was also Muggle born, and that was probably why they'd gotten the case. It involved Muggles and the town of Cambridge. There had been some sort of Spring Festival there that had been interrupted by a Muggle bomb. The explosive device had severely damaged an old building, which had threatened to collapse and kill many of the people inside it, and those closest. There had been a very powerful spell cast over the building, which prevented that from happening, the worst of the damage repaired almost instantly.

The Muggle authorities were of course investigating, trying to capture the bomb maker, which gave the Aurors a perfect chance to poke around and ask their own questions. It wasn't that they were ungrateful to this unknown Witch or Wizard; it was that rogues that were strong enough to cast a spell like that were often trouble in their own right.

Every school recorded the magical signature of its students, and a copy of that register went to the Ministry at the end of each year. Once they'd sat their NEWTs, most students had matured to the point that their magical signature would stay stable for the next ten decades or so. If the Wizard or Witch broke their wand, Ollivander or whoever sold them a new wand were required to record the new signature and send it to the Ministry as well. Even the eleven year olds buying their first wand had their signatures recorded. There was a good reason for such tight controls. A single wand, expertly wielded could wreak more devastation in a short time than an army of Muggles. A single wand, inexpertly wielded could kill or maim more effectively than most Muggle methods. These magical signatures were vital to policing the Wizarding world, and all the various Ministries around the world co-operated when it came to tracking rogues.

This rogue may simply have been someone who hadn't had a lot of training due to a perceived lack in magical ability, and had a magical surge in a life-threatening situation. Or it could be someone with a more sinister plot. Cambridge didn't have a magical community - the magical universities were in London and Bath - so if whoever it was was a resident they wouldn't have been noticed much by their magical neighbours. If this was the case then they'd help them enrol in an adult education course that would teach them to control their magic.

If they were someone with less than honest intentions, then they'd be nipped in the bud very sharply. No one needed another Voldemort around the place, even after ten years it was still too fresh in Ron's mind. He'd die rather than let another Dark Lord rise, which was why he and Hermione tended to track the rogues that popped up in Britain. They were the best at that task, slipping from the Muggle world to the Magical one and back easily.

"We need to meet with Shaklebolt," Ron got up and headed out of their cubicle, confident that Hermione would follow, "We'll get our travel plans organised and then I'll go pack us a bag each while you contact the local Muggle law enforcement."

This task was made easier by the fact that they shared a two bedroom flat near the office. The Daily Prophet had made a big song and dance of this until Ron went to the office personally and pointed out that they were skating very close to libel. A retraction was printed (though it was small and grudging) and the newspaper knew to leave them alone after that. It made sense for them to share; they worked the same schedule for the most part and had been friends for so long that it was like living with a sibling. Ron had taught Hermione to relax a little, and she had taught him to be a bit more meticulous. Either one could bring a date back to the flat and not be embarrassed about it, though Hermione had a slightly disturbing tendency to fancy Ron's dates. They once had an argument over whose date was cuter, and even tried swapping them over. The dates went off together in the end, and the flatmates were left laughing hard and a little relieved.

Kingsley Shacklebolt hadn't changed since Ron had first met him with the exception of his rank in the Auror department. Their mutual past was something that was acknowledged and then put aside early in their working relationship. Shaklebolt understood that their time with Harry was not something for general discussion and didn't put them in the awkward position of refusing to answer their superior's questions by asking about it. The meeting didn't raise any concerns that Ron hadn't already thought of, and he went to pack for his partner and himself while Hermione contacted the Muggle authorities and introduced them.

Swanson had managed to track down all the Muggles involved in the incident that had left the area, and interviewed them. A sneaky spell had proven that there was no magical aura whatsoever around those interviewed, so that meant that who ever it was had remained in Cambridge.

It was a moments work to apparate to the town and find the local law enforcement offices. Hermione handled that side of the meeting, smoothing the way flawlessly. Ron thought that the local inspector would have offered to drink Hermione's bath water by the time the meeting ended, and his mention of that whimsical thought earned him an elbow to the ribs and a nasty look that rolled off him like water off a ducks back. They'd been given a map of the local area, and walked to the first campus to track down the students they needed. It wasn't difficult to get the class schedules and the day was spent in a series of interviews and clandestine tests.

It wasn't until the evening that they got their first break. One of the students recommended that they speak to the 'IT Professor'. That descriptor actually appeared on the Muggle's list, much to Ron's frustration. When they took that rather unspecific description to the administration building the woman there nodded in understanding and wrote an address down for them before heading for home.

"We'll have dinner first," Hermione suggested, "And we need to find rooms."

"Swanson had a booking," Ron shrugged, "We can take that over. Tell them we're from the same department, which is true, and that Swanson was reassigned."

"Which is also true," Hermione smiled. They'd changed from Auror robes to Muggle clothes and her linen shirt was starting to look a little wilted beneath the smart suit set she wore. Low heels completed the picture and Ron kissed her cheek impulsively. He looked positively destitute beside her in his plain tee, jeans and suit jacket. He wore trainers, though he was fairly sure that Hermione could out run him in heels if the situation called for it.

"What was that for?" Hermione asked, and Ron sighed.

"Because you're you," he shrugged, unable to explain the complex rush of affection and gratitude he felt for his partner. Hermione seemed to understand without words though, because she patted his chest gently and led the way to the centre of town and the restaurants there. They'd eat and then go look up this nameless Professor before heading to the hotel for the night.

0o0o0o0


	3. Part 2 The Hutch

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Part 2 - The Hutch

The address they'd been given was in Park Lane. The houses in the lane were crammed together and old, with small gardens out the front and probably high walled gardens at the back. The lane ended at a stone wall, which let out onto a park, visible through the wrought iron gate. The lane itself was cobbled and narrow, with a wicked turn halfway down. There was a narrow footpath on each side, that the residents used to park their cars on, and Ron and Hermione found it easier to walk in the middle of the road.

The place they were looking for was second from the end. There was a plaque on the wall next to the door that read 'The Hutch', which made Ron smile fondly. His parent's home was the Burrow, and the association was a good one. The Hutches neighbours had either tidy little gardens, paved to within an inch of their life and bristling with bicycles and bins, or sadly neglected ones where plants struggled unenthusiastically to grow. The Hutch had a path leading to the front steps and small glassed in front porch, where muddy shoes and umbrellas resided, and on either side of the path was a large garden bed, where spring plants were rioting joyously. The two-storey brick building had a large bay window in the front room with wooden shutters that were open and heavy drapes that were shut. The bay was echoed in the room above it, and the front door was set to one side. It was painted blue, to match the trim around the glass on the front porch. The brass handle was dull with age, but not tarnished. There was a small window of frosted glass set between it and the bay window.

"I feel at home," Hermione said, surprise in her voice, and Ron frowned. He thought that his good feelings about the place came from the association he had with the name. If Hermione was feeling it too, there was a good chance that there was something else at work. They'd learned to listen to their instincts in the field, and he watched Hermione slip her wand out of her holster beneath her jacket sleeve with a deft flick of her wrist and cast a discrete spell. She shook her head to indicate that there was nothing untoward about the house, and Ron led the way up the path.

The blue wooden door also had an inlay of frosted glass, which revealed nothing of the interior. As Ron reached it though, there was a shadow of movement on the other side, and when he knocked smartly the shadow paused for a long moment, before heading towards the door. There was a fumbling sound of a lock turning, and then the doorknob. The door opened, and although the hall light was on, the person opening the door was blocked from view.

A man stepped out from behind the door, a sleeping child cradled against his shoulder and chest with one arm. The unruly black curls and the fine features of the little girl struck Ron. They struck a chord in his memory and after a moment he recalled where he had seen that face before. Hermione gasped and Ron thought that she also saw the similarities between the sleeping child and their old friend. Ron had spent a lot of time watching Harry sleep, a secret no one but him knew. He'd been aided by the fact that they'd shared a bedroom for most of the year and the fact that on the few occasions Harry really slept, he slept heavily.

Ron forced himself to look at the man carrying the child, wracking his brains for an excuse for staring. The moment his eyes met the green ones staring at him he knew he didn't need to. Harry Potter's hair hadn't changed in the last five years, though he now wore narrow rectangular shaped glasses with a red plastic frame. He wore a tee shirt that stated he was 'in denial', and loose track pants with thick socks. He was looking from one to the other of them with shock, and after a long moment he stepped aside, wordlessly inviting them in. He pointed to the front room, and closed the door, turning to head up the blue-carpeted stairs that ran along one wall with a bend near the top.

"Daddy," the little girl mumbled as he climbed and he shushed her softly, kissing the mop of hair beneath his chin.

"Shh, go to sleep, petal. You're very tired," his voice had deepened a little over the years, but it was still the same voice that Ron heard in his dreams and memories.

"No I'm not," she slurred and Harry chuckled as he mounted the bend.

"Yes you are," his voice floated back down the stairs and a light clicked on as they entered a room, presumably the little girls. Hermione tugged on Ron's sleeve and he followed her numbly into the front room. This had bare floorboards, as did the hall, and a small fireplace set in the middle of the far wall, creating a nook on either side of it. The nooks contained bookcases, which were full to overflowing. There were pictures on the mantle, of Harry with a curly haired blonde, the blonde by herself, laughing from a silver frame, and several of Harry and the little girl, starting from the time she was a baby. There were none of the blonde and baby together, which struck Ron as odd.

There was a couch that took up most of the wall opposite the fireplace, and two club chairs. The wall adjacent the door also had a floor to ceiling book case, and when Ron peered behind the heavy drapes he saw that underneath the bay window had also been built into a concave bookcase, stuffed with children's books and toys. The wall above the couch had lots of watercolours, all local scenes matted in cream and framed in honey coloured wood.

"These are all the same artist," Hermione murmured. There were cushions scattered about on the couch and a few really large ones on the floor. A solidly built square coffee table sat in the middle of the room, its surface scarred and dinted, polished to a dull sheen by years of use, with drawers underneath it. Ron knew without looking that the child's toys would be stored there, though there were a few scattered around the room and several picture books on the table.

"There's no Muggle television," Ron gestured at the bookshelves. If he hadn't known better he'd have thought he was in a Wizards house. Hermione nodded and moved to look at some of the titles on the shelves curiously. The stairs creaked and they both straightened, turning to face the door. Harry paused on the threshold, an uncertain look in his eyes. Ron hesitated for a second, but Hermione did not. She flung herself at their friend silently, and Harry clutched her to his chest, hiding his face in her shoulder and kneading her jacket a little.

"Oh Harry, we never wanted you to leave!" Hermione whispered fiercely, and slapped his shoulder, "Don't you ever do that to us again!"

"Sorry, Hermione," Harry's voice was unsteady, but his hands weren't as he hugged and patted before carefully easing her back, "It won't happen again."

Hermione sniffed in a way that said it certainly wouldn't and Harry turned to look at Ron. The redhead stepped forward, brushing his partner aside and pulled Harry into a warm, tight hug. His friend had grown - they all had - his shoulders broadening a little. He was still shorter than Ron, about Hermione's height, and it didn't escape Ron's notice that he was hugging a man now, not his teenage friend. He took a deep whiff of Harry smell, and smiled into messy hair. He was reluctant to let go when the green-eyed man shifted in his arms, but forced himself to.

"Tea," Harry decided, and led the way out of the room. The short hall ran along the stairs and ended in a wall with yet another glass window in it. This one was a stain glass, depicting roses in bloom, and let light from the kitchen into the alcove under the stairs. There was the usual under stairs storage, and an alcove near the small window hosted a narrow table with spindly legs; there was a picture of the blonde woman there as well, next to a vase of flowers. With the stairs on the right you were forced left and into the kitchen with its polished floorboards and roomy interior.

Immediately upon entry you noticed the fireplace, set in the far wall, this one big enough for a person to stand in. Harry had put a chest of drawers in it. The nooks on either side were once again filled to bursting with books and the one furthest from the door contained what Ron recognised as a Muggle stereo. The shelf above the stereo held the slim cases that Muggles stored their music in, the colourful spines a contrast to the books. The wall nearest the door had another watercolour painting, of a river with a punt and a bridge that arched over it.

There was also a large dining room table in front of the fireplace. It had a few drawers, and knobbly, thick wooden legs. They were unpainted, though the tabletop was painted a pale shimmering green colour that reflected the colour of the walls. The light for that part of the room came from French doors that led out into a small conservatory that further led into the walled back garden. Ron couldn't see it well in the gloom but was willing to bet it was as riotous and appealing as the front garden.

The kitchen was panelled entirely in wood. The sink was a deep one, made of a white stone, and the taps were copper, as were the pots and pans that hung in a rack overhead. The china and drinking glasses sat on open shelves, with the plates up on their sides in a custom made rack. There was a wooden door next to the French doors that Ron later learnt led into the scullery with the laundry beyond it. There was actually a window over the kitchen sink looking into the laundry, which had huge windows that looked onto the back yard in turn.

Harry put the copper kettle onto the hob and started pulling down mugs and the teapot. Hermione was peering at the conservatory, and she flung the French doors open with a cry of,

"Hedwig!"

Ron went to greet the snowy owl, tickling under he wings the way he knew she liked it and generally renewing their acquaintance. Harry entered and was greeted with a hoot, which prompted him to open the back door for her. She hooted again in thanks, heading out into the night to hunt. The kettle whistled and Harry went back to making tea for them, putting the mugs and pot onto the table. One of the chairs, sitting at the end of the table had clearly been built up for a little girl to sit upon. Hermione and Ron took the chairs flanking it, which left Harry sitting with his back to the French doors.

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	4. Tea and Sympathy

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Tea and Sympathy

"Enough stalling," Hermione said after they'd added milk or sugar or both or neither and taken the first sips of the tea, "Tell us everything, Harry!"

"You're still direct," Harry grinned at her, a little twinkle coming into his eyes that made Ron's breath catch in happiness, "I can't tell you how much I've missed you."

"Well it was your own fault," Hermione replied smartly, "You knew where we were, and old Dumbledore had put a charm on you to divert any owl post. We had no way to contact you at all."

Ron grinned and snuck a look at Harry, who seemed confused by the scornful tone Hermione had taken when describing the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Neither one of them had any great love for the man who had used their friend up and then threw him away. No matter what their feelings on this subject - and they'd discussed it to death - now was not a time for a rant. The Auror shook his head lightly and reached over to pat Hermione's wrist.

"Leave off, Hermione," Ron ordered softly, "Harry knows what he did and didn't do. Lectures won't change the past."

They shared a long look and then turned to their long lost friend, folding their arms and waiting. Harry laughed and shook his head.

"You pull that look on your kids?" he asked lightly, "Because if I was one of yours I'd be confessing right now!"

"We don't have kids, Harry," Hermione corrected gently, "Ron and I work together, and we share a flat, but we're not married or even dating."

"The look is connected to our work though," Ron offered to alleviate the confusion in Harry's eyes, "And I'll tell you all about it once you've told us all about you, so cough it up already!"

Harry grinned at them and shifted to get comfortable in his chair. The soft glow that came from the recessed lights above the table gave a warm edge to everything, making the room seem even more homelike than before. Ron suddenly understood why he'd felt so at home just walking up the path. Any house that contained Harry Potter was Ron's home, a bittersweet realisation. The proof of Harry's preferred bed partner slept upstairs and smiled from several pictures. Ron would have to content himself with friendship and if he was lucky, brotherhood.

"Madam Pomfrey was never one to beat around the bush. The moment you left Ron, she told me the news. I thought that was why you'd left the way you had," Harry snuck a look at Ron who shook his head vehemently and reached out a hand, which Harry took. Ron sensed that if he interrupted now, Harry would never continue, and stayed silent. The way Harry's thumb rubbed idly over his knuckles communicated more than words could, and Ron was content with that small thing for now. Ron would explain about the kiss and everything else later, when it was just the two of them. Not even Hermione knew that he'd kissed Harry and run away.

"The Headmaster and the Goblins had already arranged everything for me. My money from the trust was converted to Muggle funds, I had all the identity papers I'd ever need, the Ministry was even going to pay me a pension, and Dumbledore had a list of schools that would take me in. The idea was that I'd use the last term to sort of ease into the Muggle world and start my studies in the new school year," Harry said it softly, yet his voice hung clearly in the still air, "I chose to come here almost blindly, and when Hedwig indicated that she'd rather stay with me and never deliver another letter than go to you Hermione…well, it was a sort of relief. She's been a wonderful companion, and we've been here long enough for my friends to think it funny that she can carry a note to them from here to their house and back."

"Carrier pigeons," the non-sequitor seemed to surprise Hermione, who'd said it, and she took Harry's other hand, "Muggles taught carrier pigeons to take letters. They'd class Hedwig as something along those lines."

Harry nodded and Ron wondered what they'd look like to an outsider right now, the three of them sitting there with cups of tea cooling in front of them, himself and Hermione holding Harry's hands. After a second of thought he realised he didn't care and turned his attention back to the even tone and soft words.

"I worked really hard, and by the time the term was up I was ready to join with the rest of the freshmen. The Headmaster had me in a dorm, but that was closed over summer, so I found a job in the university library and rented a room in a student house. Well, actually it was half an attic, divided by a couple of blankets that had been hung up to act as walls. They didn't mind that Hedwig lived in there with me as long as she didn't smell the place out, and it was there I met Sarah Gardener. She had the space on the other side of the blanket, and I soon learned to put my earphones on with some decent music when she brought a friend up," Harry blushed a little and Hermione cleared her throat. Ron could guess all too well what his friend meant, it had happened to both himself and Hermione when they forgot the privacy spell in the heat of the moment.

"I decided to do a double Bachelors course, because I needed to work hard, and to not think about things. I chose 20th Century Literature and Information Technology as my courses. They store the syllabus for all their courses in the library, which I checked out and worked against, so by the end of the first term I'd done the whole years worth of assignments. They let me take the end of year exams, and I passed. By the end of the first year of the Bachelors course I'd completed the work for all three and they awarded me my degree. The Faculties persuaded me to take on a masters in each discipline, and by then I was working in a bookstore for better money. Sarah and I went on a few extremely casual dates in between seeing other people, and by the time I was eighteen I'd gained my Mastery in both English Lit and IT. I decided to go for a PhD in them both, which would take me a while, and the university had me teaching freshman level course to my peers."

"You'd be used to that, then," Ron grinned and Harry squeezed his hand, clearly remembering the DA. Hermione took a sip of her tea and then fixed Harry with a very patient look that had him ducking his head and grinning. The longer they sat together the more comfortable they were with each other, something that Ron was quietly gloating over. They may have been apart for ten years, but the feelings that had tied them together were still there, and eventually they'd be able to form new bonds, just as strong as the old.

"I'd been in the house for two years by then, and Sarah and I had taken the blankets down," Harry blushed a little, "I wasn't any more used to girls than I had been with Cho, but at least she didn't burst into tears when I kissed her."

Ron sniggered and Hermione had to clear her throat, working to keep her face straight. Harry was entitled to that little slap, more entitled than he knew. Cho Chang had been using Harry when she dated him, as surely as she was using him now. He was lucky not to know about it.

"We were both tired of the student digs by then. The people in it seemed to change every month, and it was a constant struggle to keep it halfway clean. There was always a lot of fighting over the bills and in the end we wanted out. We looked for places to rent, but in this town flats are like hens teeth, and while we were going to the estate agents, I spotted an ad for this place. Its last owner had died and their heir was selling it because it was so run down. I persuaded Sarah to come have a look and we loved it. My galleons were getting a one to four conversion rate at the time, and I had barely put a dent in the twenty million pounds they converted to, mainly because of the pension and my job, so I bought the place outright, and Sarah agreed to pay me rent which we'd put into fixing the place up. It was a great hobby for when we needed a study break and a year after we bought it the house was complete. Sarah and I shared the master bedroom upstairs, and I took the smaller front room as my study while Sarah took the larger back room for her studio. She was an art major, and started her masters when the house was finished."

"She painted the pictures above the lounge and on the wall here!" Hermione guessed and Harry nodded, smiling gently, his eyes going soft in memory, "They're very good!"

"It took me a while to complete the double PhD - I'd work on them turn about, and in between I was working at the bookstore still, or at the university. I was ready to defend them just before I turned twenty-three, and because I would effectively be gone all hours of the day and night working on a double doctorate, Sarah and I went out for a pre-work frenzy spree. We went clubbing in London, and ended up in a hotel room. Two months later I'd won the doctorates, and Sarah went to the doctor for a stomach upset," Harry sighed and squeezed Ron's hand, his thumb faltering for the first time in its soothing strokes, "She was pregnant. She didn't want to be at first, and it wasn't until I asked her to marry me that she got her head around the whole thing. We didn't get married in the end, and we converted her studio to a nursery. Six and a half months later she went into labour early. Something went wrong, and when our daughter was born Sarah tore… the doctors couldn't save her…"

Ron jumped up and pulled Harry into a hug impulsively. He'd suspected as much from the position of the photo in the alcove. There was nothing to be said, Harry could feel what they meant through the hug that Ron had wrapped him up in and Hermione had joined. When he could let go the redhead resumed his seat and reached automatically for the hand he'd been holding. Harry gave it back to him with a small smile and took a cleansing breath.

"What did you call her?" Hermione asked and Harry chuckled softly, a richly amused sound.

"Obviously I couldn't tell Sarah too much about my past, and that always made Mr and Mrs Gardener suspicious of me," Harry told them, and Ron sensed that whatever his friend was about to say was going to be big, "I told Sarah that in my mothers family the girls were named after flowers, and that Lily and Petunia had been taken. My foster family had a different tradition, but Sarah wasn't too fond of Molly or Ginerva or Hermione; she'd let me use Molly for a middle name if it came to a pinch, and chose Rose for the first name. If it had been a boy I wanted Ron, and Sarah liked that."

"Oh Harry," the very idea that his friend had named them foster family made Ron want to hug him again. His heart felt like it would burst with a combination of pride and even love. Ron contented himself with squeezing Harry's hand tightly, and Harry gave him a crooked smile.

"Rose Sarah Molly Potter," Harry spelled it out for them, "Because I wanted her to have something of her mother as well."

"I suppose her grandparents spoil her," Hermione offered to give Ron some breathing room. His mum was going to cry when she found out about this, and probably hug Harry to death as well, followed by her new granddaughter. Ron was jolted from his pleasant thoughts by the anger that crawled over Harry's face.

"I called them when Sarah went into labour, and they came straight down. It was taking such a long time, and she was exhausted towards the end. After… well she never woke to hold her baby, but her parents had time to come in and say goodbye. So there I am, standing in the corridor with my new baby and my partner dead and they come up to me and demand I hand her over. They didn't think she was mine, you see. They even took us to court to gain sole custody. I had to take a paternity test to prove that Rose was my daughter. They called her Sarah throughout the court hearing, and when they lost they walked away and never looked back. I send them pictures of course, but there's never any reply, and Rose never gets any birthday or Christmas cards. She'll be four in a few weeks time."

"Mum will be ecstatic. She'll have the party planned before your head stops spinning," Ron grinned, and got a shy smile in return. The red head didn't think for a moment that now Harry was 'found' that he'd shun the rest of the family. The green-eyed man didn't seem to think so either.

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	5. Tell all confessions

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Tell All Confessions

Ron watched Hermione take a sip of her cold tea and laughed. Cold tea was one of her pet hates and she'd spit it out if they were home.

"Ok, now that's an impressive expression," he told his partner while Harry pulled his hands free to pat her back anxiously and get up.

"I'll reheat it," Harry was muttering when Hermione pulled out her wand and hit the cup with a quick heat spell. Her eyes widened a moment later and Ron watched her pale and stammer in horror. He looked at Harry anxiously, who was staring at Hermione's wand with an unreadable expression.

"Oh Harry, I'm so sorry! I didn't think!" she reached a hand to him, and Harry took it, leaning down to kiss her cheek absently. He sank into his chair again, and Ron reached for his free hand once more. Would this reminder of his loss upset the former Boy Who Lived, or would Harry be ok with it all?

"It's not like I'd forgotten you were a witch, Hermione," Harry sighed, "And I've even got my wand packed up in the box fro m Ollivanders and hidden in my sock drawer. Please don't worry about it. If we can't be ourselves in front of each other, you two might as well go home and obliviate yourself."

"Not going to happen," Ron said firmly, "Don't even think about it."

"I just…" Hermione trailed off and leaned over to peck Harry on the cheek, wisely dropping the subject for now. They'd have to talk to Rose about magic at some point, because Ron assumed that Harry hadn't told her all about Hogwarts or his own time as a Wizard. Harry met his eyes and smiled, something in his expression telling Ron that they were thinking along the same lines. Ten years apart and that skill hadn't been lost - the knowledge let something in his chest ease, a tension that Ron hadn't been aware of until it was gone.

"So, changing the subject," Harry said lightly, winning smiles from the Aurors that once more held his hands, "What have you two been up to lately?"

They took it in turns to tell Harry about what they'd done. Hermione started, with Ron coming to get her the moment he woke, and waiting outside the hospital wing. They saw Dumbledore go in and Professor McGonagall caught them outside, arguing about eavesdropping. She walked them to the common room with a hand on each shoulder and the next day, Harry was gone.

"They took me to St Mungo's to confirm the diagnosis," Harry interjected there, his voice quiet, "Professor McGonagall went with me. She cried with me when they told her the truth."

The trio sat in silence for a moment, contemplating a crying Minerva McGonagall, who had always seemed so strong and controlled. Ron took up the tale about waking three days later and finding Harry's things missing from the dorm, and how he and Hermione had run to see the Headmaster. The gargoyles wouldn't let them in, and when they'd gone to the Great Hall there was pandemonium.

"Fudge had announced it to the papers," Ron said heavily, "And the Daily Prophet was being as dramatic and disrespectful as it possibly could. It was a nightmare, Harry, all your friends demanded we tell them the truth, and we didn't even know. I went to send Pig with a letter to you, asking where you were and if you were ok, but Pig couldn't find you."

"The Headmaster put a charm on me that would prevent owls from tracking me," Harry sighed, "He thought that the Death Eaters would come after me, like Sirius did."

Ron squeezed the hand he held, though it was evident that Harry had recovered some from the loss of his godfather. Perhaps the fact that he'd lost so much more and had to overcome that had helped him put away some of his grief. Hermione took up the tale, explaining how they'd worked hard in seventh year for NEWTs, and that Ron had been Head Boy and Quidditch Captain. Harry shot him a look, and Ron grinned. The Mirror of Erised had actually told the future the one time Ron had looked into it. She told Harry about graduating, and that they'd made marks good enough to be accepted for Auror training.

"That's why you're here?" Harry pulled his hands free, his quick temper coming forward suddenly, "They sent you to check up on me?"

"No!" Ron lunged and grabbed Harry's hand again, shaking it to get his friends attention, "We're here on a job Harry, that's true, but we found you because the Muggle authorities had you listed as a witness in our case. They didn't even have your name down, just the IT Professor. It's why we looked so surprised!"

Harry looked at them both hard, examining their faces for any sign of a lie. Ron could understand it - Harry had been lied to by people in authority until he'd left the Wizarding world. People he'd trusted had used and abandoned him in a world were nothing was as it seemed to be. He had no reason, not even their years of friendship, to trust them now. Ron let Harry see that he meant what he said, his fingers rubbing and tangling with his friend's once more, until Harry's breath whooshed out of him with a great big sigh and he slumped in his chair, temper over.

"I'm sorry," his red faced friend apologised, "I should have known better."

"Yes you should," Hermione said, the sharpness of her tone at odds with the gentle expression on her face, "It's alright, Harry. We understand. The Wizarding world never did you much good, did it?"

"That's not an excuse," Harry shook his head, "I never doubted the two of you. Not for a moment. Even when we were fighting I knew deep down who you were to me. I know you don't have any reason to believe that after I just disappeared without a goodbye or even an explanation…"

The partners got up and hugged him. They were all silent for a long moment, breathing unevenly and trying not to let this discussion dissolve into a sobbing mess. Hermione broke away first, dashing her fingers under her eyes and taking a deep breath. Harry burrowed closer to Ron for a second and then let go as well, gathering the empty mugs and taking them to the sink to be rinsed. Ron took the teapot over and they adjourned the to front room, sitting on the lounge with Harry once more between them, holding their hands. The contact was as vital as air at the moment, and Harry was holding on to them just as hard as they held him.

"Well," Ron took up the tale once more, "We worked our arses off in training. We were an unbeatable pair, and when we graduated it was as first and second in the class."

"I knew you'd do well," Harry mumbled and grinned at the red head, "You were determined from the moment Moody mentioned it to become an Auror."

Ron stared at his friend and wondered how the hell he'd missed it. When they'd met, he'd been a little boy desperate to stand out from his brothers. Harry had distinguished him from the rest of the class in the first hour of their meeting. In their fourth year Harry had finally met all of his older, smarter, stronger brothers, and envied him for them. How had he missed that the one person who wanted him for himself had been right in front of him all along? Hermione cleared her throat and broke Ron's chain of thought.

"Yes well, thank you Harry," she smiled, and continued where Ron had left off. She explained that each partnership developed a speciality over time, one that allowed them to play to their strengths and clear cases for the department more quickly. Their speciality was hunting down rogue Witches and Wizards.

"Former Death Eaters mostly. Fudge was forced to put in some pretty harsh penalties for the Death Eaters after you battled Voldemort. He managed to get elected again, for another ten year run just after you… left the school, but I don't think he'll manage a third term in office. People are getting sick of his lies and grandstanding," Hermione shook her head. She'd been furious when Fudge was re-elected on the principal that he'd saved them from Voldemort by helping Harry. No one had dared speak to her for days, not even Ron.

"There are no Death Eaters in Cambridge," Ron hastened to add when Harry tensed up, "We're looking for an unknown rogue."

"How can you tell the difference?" Harry frowned and Ron grinned. It was a fair question.

"Every magical school records the magical signature of its students. When they graduate that signature is transferred to a register at the Ministry. This happens world wide, Harry, and the Aurors use that register to trace crimes and misdemeanours back to their source," Hermione's voice had taken on a faint lecturing edge, but Harry didn't seem to mind, "Let's say that someone goes completely off his nut and starts hexing people left right and centre in Diagon Alley. A second Wizard decides to use the chaos to hex someone they hate. We can sort out who cast each hex, and that way the nutty Wizard only gets tried for his hexes, and the sneaky one gets caught."

"One Wizard with a wand can do more damage, more quickly, than a whole crowd of Muggles," Ron put in, "And get away a lot faster. Our job is to find their signature and pin it to them."

"But I thought the explosion at the craft fair was done by one of us, not a Wizard," Harry frowned, "The authorities said that whoever did it wasn't very good with explosives because the bomb didn't detonate properly. Otherwise the hall would have collapsed completely."

"A Muggle planted the bomb, Harry," Ron nodded, "But it went off properly. A rogue Wizard cast a very powerful repair charm to stop the building falling in."

"Rose and I were in that building. Whoever it was saved our lives. How can they be a rogue?" Harry looked at Ron in confusion and Hermione leaned in to kiss his cheek in comfort.

"Their magical signature is not on our register Harry," she explained, "It's standard procedure for us to then check the international registers. When a Wizard or Witch travels legally, their signature is collected at the borders. Only someone who was in the country illegally would avoid having that signature collected. People who come to the country illegally are usually up to no good, or fleeing from crimes committed in their own country."

"The second way that someone can avoid having their signature recorded is to avoid being trained by a magical school. This is usually a Muggle born, who turned their invitation to schooling down. Without proper training they usually lose the ability to do magic as they get older, simply because it's something they don't want and it atrophies like a muscle that isn't used. Because whoever this was is so powerful, we need to ensure that they have sufficient training," Ron added calmly, "They could hurt themselves or others entirely by accident."

"The problem is that there was a large number of people from a Muggle assisted living house at the fair. These people all suffer from a severe intellectual disability. We'll be interviewing them starting next Monday," Hermione sighed, "If it was one of them who performed the charm…"

"What?" Harry asked anxiously, and Ron shifted, knowing that his friend would hate to hear this.

"The Healers at St Mungo's will visit them and put inhibiting spells on them. They won't be able to do magic anymore," Hermione said it baldly and Harry shuddered. He knew what it felt like to lose that ability. Ron let go and wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders. His friend was breathing hard and pale, staring at the coffee table intensely. Hermione made to put her arm around him too, and Harry leapt off the couch, his arms wrapped around his waist as he paced to the fireplace and back.

"What if there's another explanation," Harry asked in a tight voice, "Would the Healers do that to a child?"

"No," Ron gestured to Hermione for her to remain quiet. Whatever Harry was thinking, he needed to tell them in his own way, "Depending on the age of the child they'd either send them to Hogwarts for schooling or set up wards on their house to monitor and absorb any excess magic until the child was old enough to go away to school."

"No inhibitors? No tests? They wouldn't take her away? Even if her dad was a Muggle?" Harry's voice had a pleading edge, and Ron shook his head. He had a suspicion what Harry was thinking, and a glance at Hermione showed that she had a pretty good idea too.

"The Department would insist that the parents sign an agreement that the child goes to a magical school when they're old enough," Hermione said gently, "Do you think it's Rose?"

Harry nodded miserably, and slumped against the mantelpiece.

"We were in the centre of the hall, looking at one of the jewellery stalls there. I was hoping to get some ideas for her birthday present, and I was crouched behind her while we looked at some glass beads on a wire. The windows behind us blew in and the whole building shook and swayed. I thought it was coming down at one point, and when it was over there were huge cracks in the walls and ceiling. I'd curled up around Rose, and I just grabbed her and got the hell out. She was terrified," he licked his lips, and took a deep breath. Ron knew that he was about to tell them why he thought his daughter had cast that charm, "Three nights before she couldn't reach her favourite story book. I was in the kitchen de-boning chicken and she had been yelling for me to come lift it down. She gave a squeal all of a sudden and I ran into the front room in time to see the book floating down to her. It looked like Wingardium Leviosa to me."

"What did you tell her?" Hermione asked, and Harry laughed, a dry mirthless sound.

"That next time she should come and ask me for help rather than yelling from the front room. How do you explain magic to a baby?" he shook his head, "Three is about the first time they do magic, right? I remember reading that somewhere."

"That's right," Hermione soothed, "If Rose is a Witch that is perfectly normal. And there's a spell I can perform Harry, to see what her magical strength and signature is. It won't hurt and if we do it now she'll probably sleep right through it. Once we have the results we'll know what to do."

Ron got up and Harry nodded, taking a deep breath and straightening up. He reached out and took their hands again, his own cold to the touch. Ron squeezed the fingers wrapped in his for comfort and won a pale smile. Harry led them up the blue carpeted stairs quietly, passing more framed watercolours as they did.

The landing at the top of the stairs was also carpeted. There was a door at both end, and two facing them. The door to the immediate right was open a little and Ron caught a glimpse of blue and white tiles, indicating a bathroom. The door closest to that was Rose's bedroom. It had bare floorboards as well, with a large colourful rug in the centre of the room. The wall adjacent to the door had a radiator enclosed in a fancy wooden cover, with a huge pin board above it covered in childish drawings. There was a dresser in the nook opposite the door, followed by a fireplace that contained a toy box, followed by a large cupboard that filled the other nook. Mainly windows that overlooked the darkened back yard took up the wall opposite the pin board. Beneath them was a bookcase with treasured objects and storybooks on it. A small lamp rested on one corner, and then there was the bed.

Ron had lit the tip of his wand to see all this, and the pale yellow walls and dark yellow Holland blinds that covered the windows radiated the small light back to them. Rose was curled on her side, breathing deeply, a ragged bear clutched in her arms, her hair even wilder in sleep. The wall above her bed had framed photographs hanging on it, and Ron recognised Sarah, smiling shyly for the camera with her hands on her large belly. There was a photo of his family, with Harry and Hermione as well, taken in the garden at the Burrow. Ron's dad had done that the year they went to the Quidditch world cup. There was another picture of just the three of them in winter school uniform, leaning against one of the courtyard walls, and probably snapped by Colin Creevey. Baby Harry and his parents also graced the wall, as did a picture of Rose with her father, a few days after she was born.

"The Headmaster froze the pictures in my album," Harry whispered, "I had prints made for Rose petal, so she could see her family. That one with Sarah is the only one I have of the two of them together."

It was a delaying tactic, and one that Ron could sympathise with. He shared a glance with his partner, and Hermione drew her wand and whispered a spell softly. There was a quiet hum and a pale pink light surrounded the sleeping child for a moment. Her breathing didn't even change as the glow faded and the hum stopped.

"Normal," Ron whispered immediately, "She's normal, Harry. It wasn't her that cast the repair charm at the hall. You won't be hearing from the Department until she's eleven and ready for high school."

Harry slumped in relief and nodded, swallowing hard. Ron slung an arm around his waist and took him into the room next door, sitting on the bed with Harry who leaned forward and put his head in his hands.

"I'm a terrible parent," Harry moaned as Hermione closed the door, "I told myself that I'd love her no matter how strong or weak her magic is, but now I'm glad that she's just normal, not special, only normal."

"I understand," Ron patted him between the shoulders, "You were special, and it never gave you anything but trouble. It's ok to be relieved, Harry. You love her and want her life to be easy."

Harry nodded but didn't speak. Hermione was looking tearful again, and Ron glanced away to take in the room they were in. Once more the boards were bare, and a fireplace sat in the wall opposite the door. This one was like the one in the front room, with a grate and what looked like an identical pile of coals sitting in it. Harry's wardrobe was opposite the door, and a large dresser sat in the nook closest to the bay window. There were heavy maroon drapes across the alcove at the moment, but Ron would have bet a galleon that there was a bookshelf under the window, and wooden shutters across it. The bed he was sitting on was a queen size, with a simple head and footboard. Hermione had turned on the lamp on the bedside table closest to the door, revealing the picture of Harry and his parents there, and the wall adjacent the door boasted another watercolour, this time of the Hutch, framed and matted like the ones downstairs.

"Do you think the bed is big enough for the three of us?" Ron asked Hermione, "And what time does the Floo office close tomorrow? We'll put the account in my name so no one gets suspicious."

"Um, twelve I think on a Saturday," Hermione looked amused, "And the bed should be big enough if we're friendly."

"Staying over are you?" Harry's muffled voice floated up, "And what makes you think I want a Floo connection?"

"How else will you get to the Burrow for Sunday dinner?" Ron asked reasonably, "I'll shift that chest of drawers out of the fireplace in the dining room to the alcove under the stairs, and that table can go by the front door. Maybe you should put Sarah's picture on the dining room mantle? Hermione will have to enlarge the fireplace a fraction, and check your chimney, but we can put an anti-Muggle charm on it so no one will notice, or wander in."

"We'll have to tell Molly we're bringing guests," Hermione suggested, "And ask your brothers and sister to come a bit earlier. Bill and Charlie are here Harry, but they go back before next weekend, and they'll want to meet their niece."

Ron was grateful that Hermione could read his intentions so easily. Harry would know that he couldn't put off meeting the Weasley's, and if the two of them made all the hard decisions now it would be easier for Harry later. If he truly wanted them out of his life he'd say so now, before letting it go too far.

"Rose is going to squeal tomorrow. I give you fair warning. She somehow reaches a pitch that can etch glass," Harry sat up and rubbed his face briskly, "The wardrobe is mainly empty and has some drawers in it if you want to unpack. I'll go shut up the downstairs. Bathroom at the top of the stairs, and I'll get you some towels."

Ron grinned, relief making him feel weak for a moment. Harry grinned at them both and got up, heading downstairs to switch off lights and generally get his head on straight. Hermione bounced on her toes once her friend was gone and Ron snorted, shaking his head and getting up to fish the shrunken carpetbags out of his pockets.

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	6. Meeting a Flower

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A big thanks to the people who reviewed the first five chapters so promptly! Just to set your minds at rest, I have already finished this story (32 chunks in all) and they will be up in five chapter lots (because they are so short). However, I can't promise that I'll post to a regular schedule (sorry about that). Enjoy! 

Meeting a Flower

Ron woke the moment Harry slipped out of Hermione's arms and from beneath his hand. He watched his friend through slitted eyes as he collected his glasses and clothes and left the room. The bathroom door shut a moment later and Hermione rolled onto her back to look up at him. They spent a few minutes, just looking at each other and listening to Harry run water into a basin. The room was still and listening to their friend was oddly reassuring. Ron had found it hard to get to sleep last night because he was afraid he'd wake up and find this was all a dream brought on by a blow to the head. Hermione nudged him with an elbow to get his attention and he looked at her inquisitively.

"Today will be hard for Harry," she whispered, "We should stick to our plan and get on with the interviews. Give him some time to take it all in."

Ron nodded and patted the flat stomach his hand was now resting on. He grinned when she squirmed, knowing that she was ticklish there, but didn't take it any further. Rose didn't need to meet them fresh from a tickle war. Hermione would never forgive him. He rolled onto his back as well and stared up at the cream ceiling that went so well with the pale maroon walls.

"We'll talk it over at breakfast," he suggested, "That way Rose can be included."

The shower went on and Hermione nodded before wriggling into a comfortable position and going back to sleep. Ron grinned and shook his head. She was more than capable of napping for another ten minutes and then springing from bed full of energy. The times they'd slept in close quarters in the field had shown Ron that.

He sat up a bit in the bed and listened to the water splash over Harry in the shower. The kiss in the hospital wing had been the awakening of Ron's understanding of his nature. He'd loved Harry for a long time, but thought it was only brotherly love. That kiss had been like a punch to the stomach and he'd realised that his body loved his friend as much as his heart did. Ron had never had the chance to tell Harry that, and while the love he'd felt hadn't diminished over the years, he hadn't lived the life of a monk, either. He'd put himself about a bit and knew what he liked and what worked. Half sitting up in Harry's bed, listening to Harry shower was doing more for him now than some of his partners ever had.

The water shut off, and Ron tried not to imagine towels rubbing, or Harry naked. There was the sound of a window opening and then the bathroom door opened as well. Footsteps headed into Rose's room, and Ron heard the little girl greet her father. He listened to them talk about what she would wear for working in the back garden today, and heard Harry tell her that they had guests, who were still asleep in Harry's room. Once they'd gone downstairs to make breakfast, Ron got up and took his turn in the bathroom. One quick shaving spell and a fast shower later he realised he'd left clean clothes in the master bedroom. He shrugged and crossed the landing in a towel, the tee shirt and boxers he'd slept in floating behind him.

"Ron!" Hermione hissed, "That's not appropriate!"

She had her clothes in her arms already and left the room before he could say a word. Ron sighed and tossed his sleepwear on the bed before getting dressed and combing his hair. He made the bed carefully, tucking things in and smoothing wrinkles before sitting on one end and waiting for Hermione.

"Why are you still here?" she asked as she came in. He took her nighty from her hands and tucked it away neatly too before smoothing the wrinkles out once more and generally fidgeting while she pulled her hair into a sleek braid. She watched him out of the corner of her eye and shook her head when she was done.

"You're nervous?" her tone was a continuation from her earlier remark, "Ron, she doesn't know you."

"What if she doesn't like us?" Ron asked quietly, "Or if she's afraid of magic? Then what will we do?"

"Ron, Harry has our picture hanging above her bed. I don't think it will be a problem," Hermione said matter of factly and shrugged her jacket on, "But if you're that worried, I'll go first."

He sighed and trailed her down the stairs. At the bottom he noted that the table had been moved to stand beneath the frosted window set beside the front door, and what he now recognised as a dining room chair sat beside it. Harry and Rose's winter coats hung from hooks on the wall, with a couple of scarves and a battered leather satchel hanging on additional hooks beside them. That simple sign that Harry was willing to go through with Ron's plan was like a shout in the still hallway, and Hermione looked back at Ron with her heart in her face.

They entered the kitchen to see Harry at the stove, cooking breakfast while Rose's voice floated from the conservatory, where she was apparently talking to Hedwig. Harry looked around when Hermione said good morning and smiled happily.

"Good morning you two!" he replied, and Rose's voice broke off. Ron took a deep breath and smiled as she appeared in the doorway. Harry had apparently brushed her hair with a wet comb, because it was almost behaving, and she looked gorgeous in her white tee, overalls with a sunflower on the bib and sandals. Her eyes widened in shock and as Harry had warned she squealed in surprise. Ron swore he saw the glass in the doors vibrate.

"Uncle Ron! Aunt Hermanee!" she ran forward, arms out, and it was surprisingly easy to step forward and swing her into his arms, kissing her on the cheek soundly and laughing. She had quite a strong grip around his neck and kissed him back, patting his face before turning in his arms and launching herself at Hermione.

"Aunty Hermanee!" Rose laughed, and Ron laughed with her. Hermione was a difficult name for someone who was almost four, and Rose was close, but not close enough. Hermione didn't insist however, much to Ron's surprise. Perhaps the nickname was one that his partner would let stand; normally she was very fastidious about the way her name was pronounced.

"I think I'm jealous," Harry announced from the stove and Ron winked at his niece before going over and hugging Harry, kissing his cheek and pretending to pick him up. Harry laughed, hugging him back for a moment before slapping at his hands and wriggling free.

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Hermione asked. Harry turned and grinned.

"You can set the table. Rose can show you where everything is. How many plates today Rose?" he asked and Ron watched his niece carefully put up a finger for each person and then count them carefully.

"Four," she determined, her frown of concentration clearing, "We need four daddy."

"Good girl," Harry beamed in pride, "And while you and Aunt Hermione are setting the table Ron can shift that chest of drawers."

"I wasn't planning to do it the Muggle way," Ron warned in a mutter and Harry rolled his eyes good-naturedly at him. His friend was so relaxed, and comfortable that it made Ron's heart swell happily. Harry had never been this relaxed at Hogwarts, though he'd come close once at the Burrow. Here he seemed to fit his skin, and it was a beautiful sight.

"I didn't think you were," the green eyed man nodded, and turned back to his frying pan. Ron took that to mean that magic was allowed, even preferred, and flicked his wand out of its holster, moving over to the chest of drawers and directing them to float out of the fireplace and around the table. They fit through the door sideways and slotted neatly into the alcove with no room to spare, not even on top.

"Perfect fit," Ron announced as he returned and Harry nodded. He flipped the contents of the pan and turned to the bowl of parmesan cheese, flipping the contents there and then dropping them onto a plate that was already piled high.

"The drawers went there originally, but we moved them into the fireplace once we decided to shut it up. If anyone asks I'll tell them I'm thinking of putting a gas fire in, like in the front room and my bedroom," he murmured, and Ron nodded, leaning in to sniff appreciatively at the French toast.

"I don't think she noticed either," Ron leaned back. Harry chuckled and glanced at him. The rich sound made Ron's knees go and he was relieved to be leaning against the counter already. He made a determined effort to get a hold of himself, before he ruined this reunion.

"She noticed all right. She's just waiting until she has you cornered. She'll ask a million and one questions and demand demonstrations. Clear your schedule, and in the meantime, tell me your appetite hasn't changed from school."

"It hasn't!" Hermione called from where she was pouring juice. Ron laughed and went to ferry glasses to the table.

"Can we have fruit too, daddy?" Rose called from where she stood in the scullery door, and when Harry said yes she beckoned Ron to follow her. The scullery was narrow, quite deep and lined with shelves from floor to ceiling that were stacked with food and containers in all shapes and sizes. A door near the front led a step down into the laundry, which held a large refrigerator, washer and dryer and a great big linen cupboard. There were books in here too, about home maintenance and DIY building projects, lining two shelves that had apparently been built for them. The cupboards, benches and drying rack also looked homemade, their small flaws adding to their charm. The flagstone floor was worn with age and like the rest of the house it seemed homelike.

Rose directed Ron in the retrieval of breakfast melons and strawberries from the bottom of the fridge, adding yoghurt at the last minute. She carried the two melons and left him to deal with the rest, directing him into the kitchen and telling him how to prepare the fruit.

"You sound just like your Aunty Hermione," Ron chuckled at her, and Rose's blue eyes got very wide.

"So?" she asked and Hermione swooped down on her for a laughing kiss before Harry told them to move to the table, as the toast was ready, and asking who wanted tea. They sat down in a noisy cross talk of requests for a particular plate or condiment, and settled in to munch contentedly. Harry was an excellent cook, and the recipe books in the kitchen clearly hadn't been wasted.

The partners announced that they had work to do today towards the end of the meal, and Hermione asked what was a good time for them to come back.

"Soon," Rose announced, dipping her piece of melon in the yoghurt on her plate, "Very soon."

"I'm with Rose," Harry grinned, "Ron, do you want some money for the connection fees?"

"Not unless it's in galleons," Ron grinned back; glad to hear it said aloud how much Harry wanted them to stay, "I'll get you a good supply of powder as well. Shall I use the house name for the destination?"

"Yes please," Harry nodded, "I'd rather not have to say my name to get home."

"What are you talking about daddy?" Rose inquired, a smear of yoghurt on her chin and fingers. Harry grinned and leaned over to clean her up, kissing her cheek as he sat back. His hands had been deft and gentle, well accustomed to the task, parent hood sitting gracefully on his shoulders.

"It's a surprise," he admitted, "But if all goes well, we'll go and see Nanny and Poppy tomorrow for dinner, ok? And we'll go and get some keys made this morning, so Ron and Aunty Hermione can get back in."

"Does that mean you won't stay away from us again?" Rose asked Ron, who nodded solemnly from the end of the table. Harry met his eyes, something unreadable lurking in the green depths.

"Ron never breaks a promise," he told his daughter huskily, "You can count on him."

Ron had to clear his throat and get up for a glass of water.

0o0o0o0


	7. A Spot of Gardening

0o0o0o0

A Spot of Gardening

Ron and Hermione naturally didn't need keys to get back in, something that Harry had probably forgotten. However, it was nice to apparate into the kitchen after a busy yet fruitless day of interviews and find two sets of keys, each dangling from a brass letter, sitting on the dining table. The French doors were open, and Ron followed the sound of Rose's voice into the conservatory where Hedwig still slept. The wall behind her perch contained yet another bookcase, full of gardening books interspersed with empty pots, seed packets, gloves and a few bicycle repair kits. Harry's bike had a seat fitted on the back for Rose to ride on, though she had a small bike of her own for short trips. There was an unmatted but framed watercolour in here too, of the garden as it must have been when Harry and Sarah bought the house. It had a title scrawled across the bottom, which read 'don't be fooled - your artist is no gardener' in a strong black scrawl. The picture showed a garden run wild with neglect.

The back door was open, and let out onto a small paved courtyard. That ended at a low stone wall that had three steps cut into it, and Ron noted the retractable clothesline that ran from the scullery wall to the high brick garden wall. Ivy had been clipped and trained to disguise the bricks where the retaining wall started, so that everywhere you looked was green. There was a tall oak tree in the back corner by the gate, and a small green potting shed backed against the wall halfway up the long garden. Once more there were garden beds all along the sides of the garden, full of plants that Harry and Rose had evidently tended today. The grass was slowly recovering from the cold of winter, and would be a nice lawn once it started growing again.

"Hello!" Rose yelled from where she was sitting under the oak tree. She jumped up and ran toward them, and Hermione giggled, brushing past Ron to run and meet her. Harry looked up from where he was oiling the hand pushed lawn mower and grinned before turning his attention back to his task.

Ron had left from the house that morning to first head for the Burrow. He'd warned his mum that he was bringing guests, and asked that she tell his siblings to come early if she spoke to them today. He managed to evade her interrogation by leaving with his dad for the ministry, though Arthur also did a good line in subtle interrogation that had Ron on the hop to keep his secret. He wanted Harry to see unrehearsed reactions to his return, there was no other way his friend would feel comfortable.

The Floo office had given him no trouble, as Hermione had the connection to their flat in her name. They were surprised that he had apparently moved to Cambridge, where no other Wizards lived, but he was able to shrug and put on his best vacant expression. He checked in with the office, fire called a few siblings, and then went to meet Hermione for the second interview of the day. They were concentrating on the stallholders today, as the fair had been rescheduled for this weekend, and their interviews could all be held in the same place. They both picked up a present for Rose at the stalls, a small patchwork quilt for her bed from Ron and a matching cushion from Hermione. The present had been shrunk in a quiet corner and stuck in Ron's pocket for safekeeping, along with the shrunken bag of Floo powder.

He and Hermione had taken it in turns to ask the standard questions of each person they'd interviewed while the other cast a discrete spell to detect a magical aura. In the full light of day, this spells glow couldn't be seen, and the hum went unnoticed among the background noises of the fair. They'd spoken to over thirty people, and no one had seen anything to indicate someone was casting nearby. Not that they could actually ask that, the questions ran more along the lines of 'was anybody acting strangely, muttering or gesticulating to themselves, did you hear any unusual languages' and so on. Britain had such a wide range of cultures, that not all 'foreign' languages were actual spells.

Ron came back to the present when Rose called his name and went to get his own hug and kiss. She clung to him just as tightly for a long moment, and then wriggled to be put down. The moment her feet touched the grass she was headed inside and Hermione glanced after her before going to greet Harry. Given the state of his clothes and hands, they forewent the hug, choosing a familial kiss and smile. Ron wasn't about to let Hermione have all the fun and added his efforts to the greeting, kissing Harry the way he would his partner. Harry didn't seem to mind.

"Catch any criminals?" he asked lightly and Ron nodded, a stupid grin stretching his lips.

"Yeah loads," fake enthusiasm coloured his voice and he laughed outright when Harry pantomimed awe and wonder, pretending to swoon. Hermione rolled her eyes, but she was smiling at them.

"Ten years apart and you two haven't changed a bit," she mock scolded, more because it seemed expected of her than because she was genuinely put out.

"Great isn't it?" Ron and Harry chorused and cracked up. Ron watched his friend crouch down and finish putting the wheel back on his machine while Hermione wandered off to look at the plants. He turned when Rose called for him and smiled as she trotted to his side, something clutched in each hand.

"This is for you!" she thrust the brass key ring in the shape of the letter R into Ron's hand, the newly cut key gleaming in the late afternoon sunshine, "I chose the letters while daddy told the man to cut a key for it. He had a great machine, but it was very noisy! We went away while he worked and when we came back they were all done!"

"It's great Rosie. I'll never leave home without it," Ron promised, and she beamed before trotting off to give Hermione her H and repeat her story. Harry wheeled the lawn mower into the potting shed and came out, wiping his hands on a rag.

"I realised afterwards that you'd just apparate or Floo in," he shrugged sheepishly, "But… I guess it's a sort of symbol. You two turned up on my doorstep just when I was ready to see you, and well… I'll never hide from you again. I'm sorry it took me so long to get over myself."

"No," Ron shook his head, speaking quickly because the girls were headed their way, "You did what you had to, in order to survive. We might have turned up at a good time, but I know you'd have written to us eventually, Harry. You wouldn't have stayed away forever."

Harry gave him a slightly wobbly smile, and took a deep breath before heading back into the potting shed with his tools. Ron waited with the girls for him to close and lock the door, and then followed the others inside, feeling that they'd just turned an important corner for Harry.

"I haven't been shopping," Harry confessed as he fed Hedwig, "How about we clean up quickly and then go out for dinner? Rose and I will go restock the cupboards tomorrow, and then we'll be able to enjoy dinner at the Burrow with a clean conscience."

"Sunday is shopping and cleaning day," Rose told Ron solemnly, "Daddy and I make the house all pretty for the next week. I put all my toys away and throw my clothes down the stairs for washing."

"Literally," Harry patted his daughter on the head as he passed, "The kid has lethal aim. I bet she'd make a Chaser in her time."

"What's a Chaser?" Rose asked, trotting after her father. Harry washed his hands at the sink, glancing down at Rose as he lathered and rinsed.

"A Chaser is someone who chases a special kind of ball in a sport that Ron and I used to play at school. When you're older I'll tell you all about it." he promised, and Ron took that to mean that Harry wasn't ready to talk about Hogwarts just yet. Rose accepted this answer, though there was a little frown on her forehead.

"You need a bath," Harry told her, "Then when you get home from dinner you can go straight to bed."

"Can Aunty Hermanee give me my bath?" Rose looked up at her Aunt imploringly, "Then Uncle Ron can read me a bed time story."

"Oh, and what will I do?" Harry grinned at Ron while Rose thought it over. Ron grinned back when Rose threw her arms around Harry's legs and leaned into him.

"Tuck me in," she nodded and Harry patted her head again, nodding and saying he could manage that. Once the girls had gone upstairs, Ron produced the Floo powder and Harry pulled a tall tin out of the scullery for the bag to go into. He put that next to Sarah's picture while Ron unshrunk Rose's birthday presents. The quilt was predominantly yellow, with the pillow picking up each shade and reflecting it neatly.

"You didn't have to do that," Harry touched a corner of the quilt gently, "She'll love it."

"We love her," Ron shrugged, "She's great, Harry. Funny and smart and generous. Hogwarts won't know what's hit it."

Harry chuckled and Ron picked the gifts up, heading upstairs to put them away in one of heir carpetbags. Harry followed him and started gathering a nicer set of jeans and a dark red tee. That reminded Ron of his episode with the towel this morning and he confessed in a quiet voice. If this was as big a deal as Hermione thought it was, it would be better to tell Harry sooner rather than later. Fortunately, Harry laughed and waved it aside.

"Ron, I throw her in the shower with me when I'm in a hurry. She's seen me naked; I doubt that seeing you in a towel will be a problem. And I don't have a problem with it either, I know you won't hurt or scare her."

"Thanks, Harry," Ron sat on the bed, relieved and the bathroom door opened. Harry went to clean up while Hermione apparently chased Rose all over her room, trying to get the over excited girl dressed. Ron made a silent bet with himself that she'd fall asleep in the restaurant and they'd end up carrying the child home.

0o0o0o0

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner

On Sunday they finished interviewing the vendors and the fair organisers. It was a relief to know that they were now halfway down the list, although they'd yet to hear mention of anyone acting strangely. They'd start interviewing the staff and residents of the half way house on Monday, and be finished by Tuesday at the latest, which would give them time to start on the students they'd missed interviewing on Friday. The Easter hols started at the end of the week, so that was important to get done before the students scattered. They'd start the residents of the University town the next weekend, and hopefully have something to show for it at the end.

Hermione went straight upstairs to have a bath and get changed, as one of the vendors had spilled lavender water all over her, and she now reeked of the stuff. A good cleaning spell would remove the odour, but it was not something that could be done when someone was in the clothes. She'd had a very pinched look to her face all day, and Ron had been as supportive as possible to avoid a major incident.

"What smells?" Rose asked from the door of the front room, though Hermione was out of earshot by then. Ron grinned and bent to kiss his niece, glancing into the front room where Harry was curled up on the couch, asleep. His friend always looked vulnerable when he slept, something that made Ron feel affection and worry at the same time.

"Aunty Hermione had a little accident with some perfume today," he said in a quiet voice, "Has daddy been asleep long, Rosie?"

"Mmm," Rose nodded, her nose wrinkling a bit, "He gets tired and has a nap with me. But I woke up first this time. I'm not supposed to wander around the house though, daddy says if he's asleep to stay in the room that I'm in unless I need the loo."

"Wise idea," Ron picked her up. Harry had managed to come up with a way to circumvent accidents, provided Rose stuck to the agreement, "But I'm awake, so how about we have a bit of time together. We can get you all tidied up for your visit to Nanny's house if you like."

"Can I wear a frock?" she asked and Ron nodded, assuming she had one in her cupboard upstairs. Rose smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"First we have to brush my hair with a wet brush. Daddy keeps one in the kitchen for when we're in a hurry," she directed and Ron walked into the kitchen obediently, finding the brush and wetting it at the sink before sitting her on the counter and brushing cautiously. Rose was very patient with him, even telling him he could pull harder if he liked. Once wet her hair lay down a bit, the curls falling neatly about her face. Ron put her on the floor and followed her up the stairs. The bathroom door was open, so he took his niece in to wash her hands and face quickly, listening to her chatter about the people she'd seen shopping and how daddy had dropped the vacuum cleaner on his foot and said a very bad word.

"Poor daddy," Ron chuckled, "Did you give him a hug to make it better?"

"And a kiss," Rose nodded, and led the way into her room. Ron opened the cupboard and looked inside. There were three frocks, one a blue checked affair with short sleeves, a high waist and white petticoat with a lace trim, one that was white in the same style, but with roses climbing all over it, and a plain yellow sundress. There were two further pairs of overalls hanging up, one in green corduroy and one denim with bright red patches on the knees. There were a few skirts, so small they looked funny, and several pairs of jeans and trousers in different colours and styles. One or two blouses hung besides the skirts, but Rose seemed more like a jeans and tee girl to Ron. There was a plastic garment bag off to one side.

"You don't wear a lot of frocks, do you?" Ron looked down and Rose grinned.

"If I can't dig in the garden in it, then it's no good, daddy says. He likes clothes that are tough!" she chuckled, "Blue frock please!"

"Blue it is," Ron pulled it off the hangar and put it on the freshly made bed. Rose pulled out a pair of sandals to match, and after a moment of thought trotted over to her dresser and pointed at a drawer.

"Daddy makes me take a cardigan," she reminded her uncle, and Ron found a blue one to match the frock that met with her approval. He remembered that Harry had carried one for his daughter last night, and put it on his sleeping child for the walk home. Ron had won his bet with himself on that score. He shut the cupboard while Rose sat on the floor to pull off her loafers and socks, and then steadied her as she pulled off her skirt and tee.

He picked up the dress and looked it over carefully, noting the zipper in the back, which he immediately undid. He bunched the frock up like it was a shirt and Rose held her arms up obligingly, letting him pull it over her head and settle it in place. He zipped up, shook out the skirt and watched her plop onto her rug to pull on the sandals, which he buckled for her.

"You look very pretty, Rosie," he smiled, and she smiled back hesitantly. He gathered up her dirty clothes and stuck them in the basket that she pointed to while she thought the question that was clearly on the tip of her tongue over. She was like her father - you didn't push Harry to share his fears either.

"Will Nanny like it?" the question contained undertones of worry which Ron hastened to put to rest.

"Nanny would love you no matter what you wore," he promised, "My mum will be so happy to see you she won't care at all if you turned up in a paper bag. She'd think you were pretty no matter what."

Rose giggled, and the small shadow on her face disappeared. She got up and Ron followed suit, holding her hand and heading for the door. The door at the end of the landing was ajar and Ron pointed to it curiously.

"What's in there?" he asked, and Rose smiled, tugging his hand as she led the way over. Ron followed willingly, and pushed the door open when they got there.

"It's daddy's study," Rose announced, "Daddy works here at night when I'm in bed. That's the rule."

Ron smiled and looked around. The room was smaller than the bathroom, and all the walls had bookcases, with what Ron recognised as Harry's university books. There was a machine whirring softly in the corner of the desk that was built beneath the window, and another that sat silent opposite it. There was a chair on wheels, and the blue carpet from the landing was extended to this room as well. Ron wriggled his eyebrows at his niece and they shut the door behind them.

Hermione was sitting on the coffee table, talking to Harry, who was now awake. She'd left her hair down after her shower, and looked a lot calmer. Rose went to hug her, and told her she smelt a lot better now. Ron laughed, and Harry smiled, though he was saved a lecture when Hermione agreed.

"You'd better go get pretty, mate," Ron gestured up the stairs, "Mum is expecting us in ten minutes."

"Shall do," Harry got up and patted Ron's arm on the way past in a friendly hello, while Hermione helped Rose put her cardigan on and listened to her chatter about her day.

0o0o0o0


	8. Guess Who's Coming to Dinner

0o0o0o0

Guess who's coming to dinner

In the kitchen, Harry balked for the first time, staring at the fireplace in trepidation. He looked down at his daughter, and Ron wondered what was going on behind his friend's blank face.

"Daddy?" Rose asked, taking his hand, and Ron watched Harry take a deep breath, his eyes coming up to meet the redheads. There was worry there, although Ron knew Harry wasn't about to back out. There was more than ample proof of his friend's courage. A second glance from Harry to the fireplace gave Ron a clue, which Harry confirmed seconds later.

"I can't carry her through the Floo," Harry said softly, "I always fall over when we do this, and if I did it with Rose…"

"No problem," Hermione said briskly and picked Rose up, "Rosie and I will go together. You first Ron, and then Harry. We'll go last so Rose can see how it's done. Ok Rosie?"

"Daddy?" Rose looked to Harry for reassurance and he smiled, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

"I'll be right on the other side, waiting for you with Nanny. I promise," he touched her shoulder and she nodded, excitement gleaming in her eyes. Ron took a handful of Floo powder and stepped into the fireplace. He winked at his curious niece and threw the powder into the grate, stating 'the Burrow' clearly. Instantly the green flames took him away and he waited patiently, his arms tucked in and breath held tightly. He saw his home grate and stepped forward, out into the front room and into his mothers waiting glare. She hit him with a cleaning spell before bussing his cheek and muttering hello. Bill got up from his armchair, casting aside the Daily Prophet to clap his shoulder.

"Now what on earth is going on? The twins said you were most adamant they be here early, or on time at the very least, and Ginny said you even stopped by her work!" Molly exclaimed, "Your fathers coming home early because the twins fire called him and Ginny spoke to him last night, and I've been wondering all day!"

Green flames erupted once more, and sure enough Harry fell out face first, getting his hands up to prevent himself from smashing into the floor and staggering to his feet, bright red with embarrassment. Ron hit him with a cleaning spell while his mother looked her first mystery guest over, and he could see the moment she recognised his former school friend.

"Harry!" she shrieked, and pulled him into an all-encompassing hug. Ron's breath caught when he heard his friend mumble 'hello mum' and Bill's hand landed on his shoulder again, gripping tightly. Ron grinned, glad that Molly was giving Harry a second to breathe before laying into him. Surely enough a moment later she was holding him at arms length and scolding him the way she'd scolded Ron all his life.

"Where _have_ you been? No notes, no owls, your father and I have been worried sick!"

"Sorry, mum," Harry shuffled his feet and glanced at Ron for help. The redhead folded his arms with compunction. Harry deserved at least one telling off, because the Weasley's had been worried. Molly was the best at this particular skill, so Ron would let her have her say, and then stick up for Harry when the rest of his family started in.

"What on earth have you been _doing_?" Molly continued, but was interrupted as the green flames flashed into being once more. Hermione stepped gracefully from the fireplace, and Ron hit her and his niece with separate cleaning spells. Rose looked windswept to say the very least, and Harry smiled at his daughter with such tender affection that it lit the room with a soft glow.

"Mum, meet my daughter, Rose Sarah Molly Potter," the words hung in the air for a moment and then Molly held her arms out, an oddly shy expression on her face.

"Hello Nanny," Rose leaned and Molly swept her into her arms. Ron considered hexing Bill to get him to let go before his arm dropped off from lack of circulation. The familiar sound of his father's apparation drifted in from the yard, and Molly sniffed, kissed Rose and looked over at Harry.

"Go let your father in," her order broke the tableau and Bill dropped Ron's shoulder to move and introduce himself to Rose as Harry headed for the dining room and door. Rose lifted her head out of Molly's hair and beamed.

"Uncle Bill!" she cried and reached out to him. Bill was a goner, and Ron chuckled, exchanging a look with Hermione. He knew how special it felt to have Harry's only child recognise you at first sight. There was a disturbance by the door, which Ron took to mean that Arthur had spotted Harry, and the redhead sat in Bills armchair, picking up the newspaper curiously, his work for the night done. His parents would welcome Harry with open arms and as for their new grand daughter…

"Where's my Rose?" Arthur barged into the room, Harry a few steps behind. Rose squealed, making everyone wince and threw herself from Bill to Arthur with a cry of 'Poppy'. Poppy was immediate mush and Bill pulled Harry into a hug, clapping him on the back and making general welcome home noises. Harry was looking a bit dazed by this point and Hermione shoved him into a chair.

"How on earth did you find him? Molly and I have been casting tracing spells for years!" Arthur asked Hermione, sitting down with Rose on his knee and his wife at his side. Ron noticed his green eyed friend staring at the carpet as he took his own seat, his ears and neck a bit pink. Arthur Weasley was a past master at getting someone to feel guilty without directly saying anything to them. While it was true that Harry needed to do what was best for himself, his actions had affected others, and that needed to be acknowledged in some way.

"Harry was a witness in one of our cases," Hermione sat down too, and Bill discovered that Ron had taken his chair. There was a brief, heated dispute that ended with Ron on the floor and Bill smirking. Rose giggled, and Molly shot Harry an anxious look. He smiled easily and made room for Ron to share his over large chair.

"We've been staying with him and Rose since we found him," Hermione added, and Molly beamed approval. Ron had a feeling he'd be getting extra helpings at dinner tonight.

"Isn't your wife coming, dear?" she asked her adopted son, whose smile faded a little. Ron slung an arm around Harry's shoulder and sighed. Trust Molly to stumble across the one controversial topic. Rose solved the dilemma by piping up from where she was leaning into Arthur's chest.

"Mummy is with the angels," her childish voice made the line seem common place, "But she watches over me, Daddy says so."

"That's right, Rosebud," Harry nodded, "She surely does."

"And does Rose know about… you know?" Bill hinted heavily and Harry grinned, chuckling under Ron's arm. He was leaning into the touch, which Ron welcomed. He liked it that Harry was not as isolated and standoffish as he had been at school. That Harry had expected touch to hurt, this one did not.

"She does, but she's thinking about it," Harry replied, giving Ron a 'sympathetic' glance for his eventual interrogation. Ron rolled his eyes and shrugged.

"I've been interrogated by the best, Harry. Your daughter holds no terrors for me," Ron said confidently. Rose hopped off Arthur's lap and pounced on Ron's legs, growling loudly, making him jump and the rest of his family laugh.

"What ever you say Ron," Harry murmured comfortably while Bill decoyed Rose to his lap, hoisting her up with a grunt and congratulating her on her growl.

0o0o0o0


	9. Boiled Beetroot!

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Boiled Beetroot

Charlie dropped a couple of plates at dinner, which he repaired easily with a wave of his wand. Rose had watched the process closely, which the whole family had noticed, but climbed up to sit beside Harry at the table with equanimity, eyeing the tempting food laid out before her.

"Can I have some of that, Daddy?" she pointed to the boiled beetroot, and Harry speared one with his fork, laying it on his own plate while he finished putting a meal together for Rose. This was the family's first real glimpse of him being a father, and Ron noted once more how well his friend seemed suited to the task.

"You won't like it, so you can try some of mine," Harry cut a small slice off, and handed the fork to Rose, who took it defiantly and chewed vigorously. A moment later the Weasley's were nearly crying with laughter as her eyes widened and the most disgusted and revolted expression imaginable crawled over her expressive face. Harry calmly handed her a glass of water and helped her sip it.

"Good girl for trying," he rubbed her back, "Eat some of Nanny's mash - she makes the best in the world."

"Better than yours?" Rose asked, picking up her fork obediently while her aunts and uncles calmed down and her Nanny beamed at her Daddy. Harry nodded and Rose tried a bit, nodding back emphatically once she'd chewed a few times. The mash was flavoured with fresh chives, which easily disguised the beetroot flavour. Harry finished cutting her bangers into pieces and Ron slid his friend's now full plate in front of him, which earned the redhead and affectionate look.

Dinner conversation consisted of people sharing their day at work, with explanations where needed for Harry and Rose. She called the twins Gred and Forge several times, which made them quite happy. Molly's old joke had been passed on to another generation, a continuity that they obviously found comforting. Under the cover of the general conversation, Harry leaned in to speak to Ron.

"You didn't tell me Ginny was pregnant. Why didn't the father come tonight?" the soft question tickled Ron's ear, and he smiled. Harry was discrete - he'd barely blinked when he saw Ginny, hugging her and accepting her scolding with good grace.

"He dumped her when he found out," Ron said just as quietly, "We don't discuss it, and she'll have all the help she ever needs."

Harry nodded and sat up again. Ron wondered if Harry would attempt to renew his relationship with Ginny. His friend had never loved her as more than a sibling, but Ginny had carried a huge crush on his friend all through school, no matter who she'd dated. If Harry were to get involved with Ginny now, their mother would be happy, as Ginny would have a loving husband that understood her to some degree, and there would be a double tie to the Weasley family, in the shape of Harry's 'adoption' and his marriage to the only daughter. In addition, Rose would gain a brother or sister, probably more than one. Ron put those thoughts aside, preferring to live in the moment for now, and not borrow heartache.

"Uncle Charlie," Rose's voice broke into a momentary lull, "How did you fix the plates with that stick?"

Ron was immediately relieved that Rose hadn't chosen to interrogate him and gave his friend a smart arse look. Harry rolled his eyes and cut his beetroot. He evidently wasn't going to help answer this one.

"Well," Charlie foundered for a moment, "It was just a magic spell, Rosie, and my stick is called a wand."

"Magic like the magicians do?" Rose tilted her head and Harry nudged her to eat some of her carrots while she waited for a reply. Charlie glanced around the table for help, and Hermione took up the question.

"No, the magicians don't really do magic," she smiled across the table at her niece, "They use very special objects to help them do tricks that look like magic but really aren't."

"But if Uncle Charlie and Ron aren't magicians, and use a wand, then what are they?" Rose swallowed her carrots and squinted at Hermione, trying to understand. She glanced helplessly about, and Fred took a turn.

"Well, Rosie girl, there are two types of people in the world. There are magic folk, and non magic folk."

"That's right," George chimed in, nodding, "The non magic folk are called Muggles, and they're men and women that you see every day."

"The Magic folk have two names," Bill continued when it appeared that George was floundering, "A magical boy or man is called a Wizard. Your Uncle Charlie is a Wizard, all of us are."

"If you're a girl, you're called a Witch," Ginny completed the explanation, and there was a faint air of triumph at having explained what they all took for granted, "I'm a Witch, and so is Nanny and Aunty Hermione."

"Am I a Witch, daddy?" Rose looked up at her father, who smiled gently, pride in his expression.

"You are," he nodded, and Ron noticed his family's pleasure at that confirmation. Rose wasn't finished though, and her next question electrified them.

"Are you a Wizard, Daddy?"

"No, petal, I'm not," Harry's smile didn't falter, "I used to be, but I had a very big accident, and now I'm not any more. When you're old enough, I'll tell you all about it."

"Your daddy saved a lot of lives with his magic," Arthur butted in, "In fact he saved a world with it. He's a hero, Rosie. Do you know what that means?"

"Someone who is a slow runner," Rose nodded and there was an incredulous silence, followed by an explosion of laughter. Harry blushed, as it was obviously something that he'd told her long ago, and Ron elbowed him affectionately. Molly got up to clear the table for pudding, and Harry got up to help, instructing his daughter to stay seated. She wriggled along the bench to snuggle into Ron's side, watching Bill and Fred cry with laughter and Ginny hold her stomach as she tried to cope with hiccups. Ron put his arm around her and thought about Harry and his sacrifice.

0o0o0o0


	10. Crush Depth

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Crush Depth

Ron carried Rose home. She'd fallen asleep on Molly's lap while the family caught up with Harry, and he with them. They'd told him that Percy still hadn't mended his break with them after all this time, and Charlie announced his intention to propose to his girlfriend when he got back to her. Harry had promised to come to dinner with Rose next Sunday, something that had Bill and Charlie protesting vehemently as they'd have left for work by then. Harry hadn't hesitated to give them his Floo address and Ron had a feeling he'd be seeing his brothers and sister every night this week at Harry's house, and probably his parents too. He only hoped that Harry wouldn't be overwhelmed by the sudden influx of Weasley's.

Once home - and Ron was already thinking of the Hutch that way, even though he'd only spent three nights under its roof - Ron helped his friend put Rose to bed while Hermione got changed and then they joined her in the master bedroom. Ron ended up in the middle this time, on his back with Hermione and Harry using him as a pillow. Harry had knotted a hand in Ron's tee, and was snuggling in warmly.

"Back to work tomorrow," the green-eyed man muttered sleepily, "You never said which University gave you my address."

"How many Universities do you work for?" Hermione sounded faintly curious, too close to sleep to be more active about it.

"Four," Harry sighed and then snored softly. Ron grinned into the darkness, liking his life a lot at that moment. Sleep found him easily, as did the sun the next morning. He was still on his back, with Hermione curled against his side, and Harry using his chest as a pillow, and arm and leg thrown over him. This presented a small problem for Ron, who was about half hard. He didn't want to drag up old mistakes, and trying to take his relationship with Harry beyond friendship would be less than wise.

Harry stirred, and slowly pulled away, moving so as to avoid disturbing the others. Ron was relieved that his Auror training had included a component on deception. He could pretend to be asleep, or unconscious or dead with perfect realism. He needed that training now so he wouldn't grab Harry, roll the other man beneath him and introduce him to the benefits of friction. When the door closed behind his friend, Hermione lifted her head, her bright eyes informing him that she had been awake for a while as well.

"How long has this been going on?" she didn't have to elaborate, having woken with Ron in the field and felt this particular portion of anatomy poking her before. They had come to an agreement that they would be impersonal about that sort of thing with each other, though they were never disrespectful. Any change to their private relationship would require a lot of mutual effort now.

"Leave it, Hermione," Ron felt his face heat, and tried to roll away. She moved to pin him down, and he froze, not wanting to wrestle her just this moment.

"How long have you had a crush on Harry?" she persisted, and Ron sighed, giving in. Better she knew about it now, rather than later. It might even be nice to talk to someone about it for a change.

"Since he woke in the hospital wing," Ron sighed, "I kissed him and then ran away. If I wasn't such a coward then, things might have been different now."

"Since our sixth year?" Hermione looked stunned and let go of him. He sat up and after a moment she did too, leaning against his shoulder companionably. Ron decided that he might was well give her the whole sad story.

"I've loved him a very long time, Hermione," he rubbed his palm over his drawn up knee, "Even when I was with someone else, I missed him, we both did, but I loved him too. When I first saw him again… well never mind."

"Ron, you have to tell him," Hermione turned so she was cross-legged and facing him, "You can't just try and deny this."

"I'm not denying it," Ron told her, "I know exactly how I feel about Harry, and I'll channel that into being the best friend he would ever want. But in case you missed the evidence, Hermione, he's straight. I'm not. There's no way he'd …"

"Ron, you are so thick sometimes," Hermione interrupted, "Last night at your mums, who did Harry choose to sit with? He consistently sat in the same chair as you. When you put your arm around him he'd snuggle in closer. He did everything but sit on your lap, and he would have if you'd indicated that was what you wanted! Everyone saw how he spent the night cuddled up to you, there was barely a meter between you two all night."

Ron wasn't sure what to say to that. He had spent the night glued to Harry, but he'd never thought that Harry had spent the night glued to him. Hope dawned for a moment, but he ruthlessly squashed it.

"He doesn't know I'm gay," the whisper couldn't have been heard by anyone else, but Hermione understood him perfectly. Ron was not ashamed of his orientation, but he was afraid that Harry wouldn't understand.

"Tell him, Ron," Hermione said firmly, "Trust him. Give him a chance, ok?"

She slid out of bed as the water in the shower stopped and collected clean clothes, stepping out into the landing to give him some time to think. Ron rubbed his head and wished there was a spell to make his thoughts stop spinning. It all came down to the risks he was willing to take. Would Harry still want him around if he knew, or would his friend ask him to leave?

0o0o0o0


	11. Part 3 I'm a Muggle

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Part 3 - I'm a Muggle

They got their first glimpse of Rose's inherited temper over breakfast. By the time Ron came down his niece was sitting at the table, eating her cereal half-heartedly and glaring at her father, who was buttering toast. Hermione was sitting in what Ron thought of as 'her usual spot' at the end of the table, and he kissed her good morning, followed by Rose and Harry. The green eyed man did seem to lean into him a little, which was a promising sign, but Ron still hadn't figured out how to tell Harry he was gay.

"Ron will know!" Rose announced when he sat at the table, "Won't you?"

"What will I know?" he asked lightly, smiling at Harry as his friend put the plate of toast in the middle of the table and went to make tea.

"Nanny won't mind if I go to her today, will she?" wide blue eyes and a beguiling twist of the head accompanied the ingenuous question. Ron saw at once the trap he'd walked into and Hermione kicked his ankle to prevent him from agreeing with the girl. His mother would be delighted to see her grand daughter, but if he said that he'd be undermining Harry. He was spared from answering, by the man in question.

"Rose Sarah Molly Potter," the words were evenly and deliberately spaced, "The answer is no."

"But Daddy!" Rose protested.

"No," Harry turned, his voice quiet and even, his gaze steady, "And that's final."

Rose wriggled off her chair and stomped out of the room and up the stairs. Harry sighed and brought the teapot to the table, sitting in his own chair and staring at the plate of toast.

"Well done, mate," Ron tossed a bit of toast onto the empty plate, "Although you do know that Mum would love to have her."

"That's hardly the point, Ron," Hermione snapped, "Harry has to decide what is best for his daughter himself!"

"That's not it either," Harry said softly, "I know mum would love having her, and would probably spoil her rotten but… we don't play people off against each other in this house, and if we make a commitment we stick to it. We're booked to go to the child minders this week. She goes to a house where there are other kids her age, so she learns how to get along with them. I'll send mum a letter with Hedwig to see if she would mind us dropping by during the holidays, but I won't just drop everything now. It's not that mum will turn her into a brat - I've only got to remember what you were all like at school to know that Molly won't put up with any nonsense - but if I give in to Rose now… where do I draw the line?"

"Exactly," Hermione nodded, seeing Ron was too busy being proud on his mother's behalf, "You don't want her turning into Draco Malfoy."

"Or Dudley Dursley," Harry muttered, shuddering at the thought, "As you can see she inherited my temper."

"Relax Harry," Ron said lightly, "She's not a monster, and a bit of spirit is not a bad thing. Would you rather she be all wet?"

Harry shuddered and Ron grinned. The red head still had a glow over the trust that Harry put in his adopted mother and made a mental note to tell her what her son had said. Breakfast was quiet after that and the three of them walked into the front hall once the kitchen was tidied up. It felt as if Harry was seeing them off to work, such a domestic gesture, that Ron felt a little hope.

"Rose! Ron and Aunty Hermione are leaving for work!" Harry called up the stairs. His daughter appeared from her room and climbed down the stairs slowly, an unhappy look on her face. She hugged and kissed them goodbye, while Harry asked if they had their keys.

Ron fished his out of his pocket and held it up so they could see, a grin on his face. This redundant gift was more precious to him than any other possession he owned, simply because it gave him access to Harry and Rose's home. Rose smiled a little bit and then looked up at her father.

"Are you mad?" she asked softly, and Harry shook his head, bending to hug and kiss her in forgiveness. She looked a lot happier when Harry let go and he sent her upstairs to get her shoes for the trip to the child minders. She climbed the steps a lot more enthusiastically this time and Harry grinned, running a hand through his hair. Ron patted his shoulder a little awkwardly and followed Hermione out into the street.

0o0o0o0


	12. Weasley's in Da House!

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Weasley's in Da House

The halfway house wasn't as depressing as Ron had thought it would be. The residents responded better to Hermione than himself, so he cast the spells discreetly, while Hermione asked the usual questions. The residents lived in a clean, well-maintained building, where the staff assisted them to perform as many independent tasks as they were capable of. The garden was pleasant, and they chose to hold their interviews out there, where the staff could observe them without being too close.

None of the residents or staff showed magical ability, and Ron was pleased that he'd be able to reassure Harry on that point. Though the green-eyed man hadn't mentioned it again, but Ron knew it had to be on his mind. In fact he and Hermione wrapped themselves around their friend in a pretty comprehensive hug the moment they saw him, muttering reassurances and patting him gently. Harry's eyes had been terrible, a sort of sick apprehension and Ron wondered how Harry had been able to hide that so well from them for this long.

Bill's voice drifted out of the front room, the cadence indicating that he was reading Rose a story, and Ron listened to the soothing sound, letting it drain his tensions away and take Harry's with it. The green-eyed man eventually sighed softly and straightened up, breaking their light hold on him and patting their arms as they stepped apart in thanks.

"How long has he been here?" Ron offered the distraction gently, and Harry's eyes lit up in gratitude. A rueful grin crossed his face and he turned to look at the open door.

"He was here when we got home. Rose was delighted of course and dragged him off for a prolonged tour of the house and garden. It gave me a chance to get the salad and garlic bread ready for dinner tonight," Harry shrugged, "Monday is pasta night, and Rose loves garlic bread."

"She'd better share, so do I," Ron replied and went to get his hello hug and kiss from his niece. Harry leaned in the doorway and watched, such a tender expression on his face as his daughter snuggled into Ron's arms that Ron wished the look was as much for him as it was for Rose. He made a determination that he'd tell Harry what he felt soon, and went to wash up a bit before dinner.

Rose went upstairs for her bath with Aunty Hermanee once the story was finished, and Harry extracted from his daughter a promise to behave better this time. Ron and Bill moved into the kitchen and Ron discussed the lack of progress they were making on the case while Harry continued preparations for dinner. Bill had spent his second last day in Britain with a few old classmates, catching up with people who worked at the Ministry or in the London area, and he shared a few stories about what his mates had gotten up to.

"What did you do today, Harry?" Ron asked when there was a lull and Harry glanced over in surprise. It occurred to Ron that Rose would very rarely ask her father that, and when she did, Harry's responses would be tailored for her young ears and shorter attention span. It also occurred to Ron that Harry's response would be tailored now, to be understandable to the two Wizards sitting in his dining room. Ron made a solemn promise to learn more about what Harry did so they could talk to each other about the present as easily as they did the past.

"Nothing too exciting," Harry tossed the comment over his shoulder, "One of my students managed to really foul up in the lab and brought the whole thing to a screeching halt for three hours. I had to cancel a class so I could sort it out, but unlike potions, this wasn't too dangerous, no matter how much the students and faculty carry on."

"Fouling up in potions was often a highlight of the day when I was at school," Bill reminisced, "We could get some truly spectacular reactions, both out of the ingredients and Snape."

Harry laughed at that, and returned his attention to his cooking. The fireplace whooshed with green flames and the twins tumbled out, followed neatly by their mother. Harry wiped his hands and went to say hello, the hubbub alerting Rose upstairs that more guests had arrived. Ron could hear some vigorous splashing.

"Charlie and your dad will come tomorrow with Ginny, if that's ok dear," Molly pecked him on the cheek, "The plumbing in Ginny's flat went out again and they've gone to fix it for her."

"We need to get her a better place, mum," Fred said softly, and George nodded his agreement, chiming in.

"Before the babies arrive."

"Babies?" Harry asked, hurrying to rescue his sauce, "She's having twins?"

"According to Fred and George she is," Ron grinned as Molly went upstairs to find her grand daughter. Harry laughed.

"I suppose they're the experts on twins," he shrugged, and Fred beamed at him, moving into the kitchen to clap him on the shoulder and sniff at the food on the stove. Harry threatened him with a wooden spoon as the pipes gurgled upstairs and Rose gave an indistinct shout. Ron saw him glance up with a frown even as George settled in a free chair and smiled over at the cook.

"Thanks Harry. It's nice to know someone in the family appreciates us."

"Rose Sarah Molly Potter!" Molly's voice rang out and Harry winced. He shook his head and refrained from going upstairs to see what mischief his daughter had gotten into. This did not go unnoticed by the brothers in the kitchen, and Ron noted that they all sat up proudly at this display of trust.

"Speaking of mischief," Fred settled onto a counter top with his usual lack of subtlety, "A sad man named Daniel turned up a the shop today Ron, looking for you. He treated us to a lovely rant about how you'd stood him up on Saturday, and he wasn't going to take that kind of behaviour from anyone, and that as far as he was concerned you were through."

Ron paled and glanced uneasily at Harry, who couldn't have failed to hear, and was stirring steadily at the pasta. He'd only just decided to tell his friend he was gay, and this was not how he'd planned it. In fact he hadn't even gotten that far into his planning at all. Harry put his wooden spoon down and wiped his hands, turning to face them with a curious look on his face.

"How many times had you dated this person?" George asked, aware of Ron's tension and Bill's glare at his twin. Ron sighed and shrugged.

"Once. That was to be our second, and I totally forgot about it," the die was cast now, and all he could do was muddle through and hope for the best. Harry smiled and shrugged, exchanging a look with the now apprehensive Fred.

"Guess you made a lucky escape there, then," Harry told his friend, his tone showing he was at ease with the new knowledge, and Ron nearly collapsed with relief. He nodded dumbly and turned as his niece entered the room, clad in her nighty and a little subdued, glad for the distraction. She said hello to Gred and Forge before coming to lean on Harry's leg.

"Nanny shouts just like you do, Daddy," she said forlornly as Molly and Hermione took the seats that had been emptied for them and Bill went to look at the painting on the wall in the conservatory.

"Who do you think taught me?" Harry asked lightly, "I did tell you to behave for Aunty Hermione."

Rose nodded, and pressed her face into her father's leg for a moment. They gave her a moment to recover by standing up and setting the table. Ron and Hermione knew where everything was, and the twins fetched and carried while Bill drew up extra chairs with his wand. Molly was told to sit down again, something she did with a smile. It wasn't often her meals were cooked for her, and Ron grinned at the appreciative gleam in her eyes. There was a hoot that announced Hedwigs return from wherever she'd been and Rose went to let the owl in, returning from the conservatory with a smile and a skip that announced she'd gotten over her fit of temper.

Ron helped put everything into serving bowls while Hermione gathered drinks, and soon they were all sitting around the table in a comfortable crush, passing bowls and exchanging compliments to the chef.

0o0o0o0


	13. Wuv, Tru Wuv

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Wuv, Tru Wuv…

"I hope Hermione's dad is ok," Harry's voice was soft as Ron entered the bedroom. His friend was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling and frowning just a little. Hermione had called her parents after dinner, in her usual Monday night check in. She'd finally reached her mothers mobile phone and the elder Granger had been rather upset. Her dad had been involved in a car crash, and while it didn't seem too life threatening at the moment, her mother had been waiting at the hospital for news all alone. Bill had immediately offered to go with Hermione to sit with her mother and brooked no refusals. She'd made hurried plans to meet with Ron later, and Harry had given her his phone number while Rose kissed her Aunty goodnight and promised to be good next time they had a bath together.

"He's pretty strong - Hermione takes after him more than she realises, and her mum did say that it didn't seem to be serious," Ron replied reassuringly and crouched beside the bed. Harry turned his head on his pillow to look at his friend and smiled when Ron took his hand. Butterflies were rampaging through the Aurors stomach as he contemplated his next move. They were in almost exactly the same positions as they had been ten years ago in the hospital wing, and Ron was feeling three times more anxious. Harry had taken the news that he was gay in his stride, even to the point where he'd continued to sit as close to Ron as possible, and welcome the touches that Ron couldn't do without.

They'd only been reunited four days and already Ron was addicted to touching Harry, to knowing that Harry was there to be touched, and to touch in return after ten years of wondering if his friend was even alive. It might seem to an outsider - not that there were any as far as Ron knew - that he and his family had forgiven Harry for scaring them like this rather easily, but the truth was the Weasley family had come to realise very early on that Harry's departure from the Wizarding world had been a matter of sheer survival. Totally powerless in a world that had proven its propensity for turning on the weak, Harry had fled to heal his wounds as best he could in private. Ron hadn't missed that statement Harry had made about needing to work hard so he wouldn't have to _think_. Thinking about his insurmountable losses would have driven the former Wizard to a depth of despair he'd likely never have recovered from.

The thing was, that Ron was about to put an entirely new type of burden on Harry's shoulders. It wasn't fair to climb into that bed with him tonight without at least telling his friend how he felt about him and giving him a chance to address the situation that Ron had created ten years ago. Ron knew that Harry wouldn't stop being his friend, but he didn't know if Harry would be as comfortable and open with Ron as he had in the last four days. To lose that…

"It's ok Ron," Harry seemed once more to have read his mind, further proof that their bond to each other was still vital after all this time, "I don't care if you're gay."

"I started something ten years ago," Ron felt like he was groping for the words, "Something that neither of us were ready for…"

Harry's lips on his silenced him abruptly. The soft kiss was like a brief taste of heaven, and it ended too soon for Ron's liking. He stared into the myopic green eyes of his best friend in the whole world, and wondered who'd sucked all the air out of the room.

"I'm ready now," Harry whispered, "If you are. I'm a Muggle, Ron. I won't get involved with your world any further than I am already. I've got a kid, and a house and commitments here. If you can live with all that, then ok. If you only want my friendship, then that's ok too."

"I don't care who you are," Ron whispered painfully, "Muggle or Wizard, you're still Harry. If you want me, then I'm yours."

"I want," Harry's reply was hungry, "I _need_."

Ron leaned in and took the warm mouth again, moving when Harry lay back, tugging at him until he was blanketing the smaller man and moaning as Harry's hands wandered over his body while muscular legs parted to let him settle between them.

"Shh," Harry half laughed, "You'll wake Rose."

Ron's response was to grab for his wand and stick a privacy spell on the door. An Auror never backed away from a challenge.

"Bet I can make you scream," he nipped Harry's ear, and they kissed again as Harry's eyes flared like brilliant emeralds. Things got a little heated after that and when it was all over they lay in a sticky pile, panting and running their fingers over each other lightly. Ron remembered to clean things up before he dropped off, and removed the privacy spells so Harry could get out the door. He went to sleep more than satisfied and woke only when Harry reluctantly got out of the wallow they'd made of the bed.

Rose wandered in when the bathroom door shut and climbed up, snuggling into his side without second thought. She dropped back into sleep and Harry found them there when he emerged from the bathroom. The tender look Ron got was just the same as the one he'd seen last night, only now he was sure it was aimed at both occupants of the bed. This was the look Harry gave to the people he loved and Ron wanted to take out a front page add in a newspaper proclaiming it. Harry sat beside him, leaning in for a chaste good morning kiss and holding the hand that wasn't wrapped around Rose. He clearly had something on his mind, and Ron wasn't left to wonder what it was.

"Are you sure, Ron?" Harry asked softly, "Because this is everything I am now. No more Boy Who Lived, no more powers unknown."

The casual mention of the prophecy chilled Ron, just as much as it had the first time he'd heard it, from Dumbledore himself. It was a calculated reminder from the man clutching his hand like a lifeline of exactly what he had been ten years ago, and what he was now. There could be only one response to this, and it was something that came as easily to the red head as breathing.

"I'm sure. But if you're really worried, ask me again in fifty years," Ron smiled, squeezing the hand he held. Harry sniffled a little and crawled onto the bed, cuddling up to the redhead and holding tight, his shoulders shaking in tiny movements. Ron held him just as tightly, waiting the storm out. If he had to spend the rest of his life reassuring Harry then that is what he'd do. In the mean time…

"We're going to need more bookshelves," Ron warned him, "And can I have that cupboard for my robes?"

"Anything," Harry laughed, and leaned up to kiss him again, his eyes a little damp but shining, "Make yourself at home."

"I will," Ron promised and accepted the kiss. Rose stirred and they broke apart, smiling at the rumpled girl and wishing her good morning.

0o0o0o0


	14. More Bang for Your Buck

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More Bang for your Buck

The day had started off so well, too. Hermione met him right on time with the happy news that her father had a broken leg, a few broken ribs and a concussion. He'd be out of hospital by the end of the week provided they could get him to promise to take it easy. Bill had apparently been indispensable, and Ron was left wondering if there was more than meets the eye going on there. His partner looked a little tired, but not at all frazzled, and Ron had been able to genuinely hug and comfort her, glad that her father's injuries had been as minor as they were first reported.

Hermione had asked him what had happened last night after everyone had left - fishing mainly to find out if Harry had seemed uncomfortable with Ron one on one, and Ron had grinned sheepishly and muttered 'privacy spell'. Hermione had squealed just like the old days and launched herself at him, hugging him tight before letting go and promising to move back into the flat immediately. Ron told her they hadn't discussed things that far ahead yet, but asked if Ginny could have his room for a while when he did move out. Hermione agreed straight away and they decided to talk to Harry first, and then maybe bring it up at dinner tonight. Now that he'd taken the plunge with his friend, Ron didn't want to waste any more time. He wanted the whole family to know where things stood between them, so that there was no confusion at a later date.

Two hours later they'd been interrupted in the middle of an interview by the interviewees phone, and a lot of creative swearing.

"There's been another bomb!" the purple haired girl told them, and Hermione and Ron headed out straight away. This bomb had occurred at Harry's home university and one discrete spell later confirmed that the rogue had been here too, casting another repair spell that had once more saved lives. Several people had been hurt, including a very large number of students that Ron and Hermione had yet to interview from the first explosion.

The fact that their rogue had been there and may still be in the area had Ron and Hermione splitting up to search quickly through the crowd to see if they could spot any other 'heroic' use of magic. This person seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time in a manner that was all too consistent. Either the rogue was using the explosion as a way to create a use for their magic, or the bomber - whoever that may be, was targeting them.

The good part about splitting up was that they'd be able to cast a sort of magical net over the scene and see who was where. This information could later be recalled for reconstruction purposes, as well as possibly allowing them to get a second fix on the rogue. The rogue had not been able to entirely contain the debris of the explosion - as before they had been casting a general repair spell, not a specific containment and support spell. Debris had gone everywhere, and Harry had been lucky not to be hit by a piece of it. There were injured people all over the place, which made it difficult for Ron to remain focussed on his tracking spells, when his first instinct was to chuck it all in and help.

Ron met his partner at their starting point, and Harry had found Hermione among the chaos moments earlier. Harry was worried about them both, but once he realised that Ron and Hermione had arrived after the fact, he'd calmed down. This didn't prevent him from subjecting them both to a worried and hasty examination, which was difficult to quell. Unfortunately, Ron couldn't take his friend to the side and reassure him in a more tactile way, as they both needed. They had a job to do, and not even for Harry could he just chuck it all in. It felt like he was betraying his friend all over again to leave his side, but Ron forced himself to concentrate grimly, knowing that the sooner they got it done, the sooner he could be with Harry.

Ron reported in a dull voice that he hadn't gotten a fix on the rogue during his initial sweep. He was following Harry's path through the chaos, watching as his friend joined the emergency efforts at caring for the injured, working side by side with the Muggle healers and his own students.

"I got a partial one," Hermione murmured, "I was following the line of sight to try and get a better fix when I found Harry."

"Can you recall the last fix?" Ron looked around, checking to see if anyone in the area was holding a wand, or gesturing in a ritual way. Even wand less magic required some sort of trigger, which was usually accomplished with a wave of the hand, or a flick of the casters fingers.

Hermione pointed towards the other side of the courtyard, and together they made their way through the chaos, hunting for their assignment so they could get back to Harry.

0o0o0o0


	15. Complication and Consternation

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Complications and Consternations

"This is not going to make our job easier," Ron muttered as they walked along the roads that led to Harry's house that afternoon, "The Muggle authorities are going to be under enormous pressure, and Shacklebolt is not going to be impressed with our failure to catch the rogue moments after they left the scene."

"We need to figure out who is causing the explosions," Hermione mused, "If there is a particular group or person being targeted, then maybe that will lead us to our rogue."

They were using a gabble spell to make their words obscure to the Muggles they passed in the street, and they got a few funny looks. The spell was designed to make most eavesdroppers think you were speaking a different language, tailored to their expectations of the person they were looking at. Ron had developed the spell as a counter measure to the extendable ears that the twins still produced and used on an almost daily basis. Wizards would actually hear garbled sounds, their innate magic breaking that much of the charm, but no more. The twins were determined to find a way to countermand that spell, purely in the brotherly spirit of competition.

"Won't the Muggles be handling that side of the investigation? I thought it was established beyond all doubt that whoever was making the bombs was a Muggle," Ron frowned, "We don't want to go stepping on toes, Hermione, that's a sure fire way to get the Senior Aurors breathing down our necks."

"Maybe," Hermione sighed, "But we're not having much luck on this end of the investigation. We'll check in with them tomorrow anyway, they might have more information. At the very least they'll have another list of names for us. Maybe we'll be able to spot someone familiar on the list."

"Apart from Harry's," Ron sighed and Hermione leaned in to kiss his cheek.

"Apart from him," she agreed.

Ron brooded for a moment, wishing that Harry hadn't had to sacrifice everything for a world that was selfish in the extreme. He'd been discarded the moment his task was done, and even though they still had a memorial day for him, there was no real effort to recognise what he'd truly lost. Ron felt that he'd be spending the rest of his life cherishing Harry, partly because someone from the Wizarding world should, but mainly because he loved him.

"Listen, why don't you go check on your dad?" Ron said after a long moment, reluctantly putting aside his wish to check Harry from top to bottom inch by painstaking inch, "I'll go report to the office. I intend to sleep at the Hutch tonight, so I'll visit the Muggle authorities in the morning. I'll meet you there if you like."

"Ok," Hermione looked pleased that he'd remembered her father, and kissed him on each cheek, "One for Harry and one for Rose," she laughed and Ron grinned, casting a small charm that would divert attention from her when she apparated. In a moment she was gone.

0o0o0o0


	16. Dinner and Truth

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Dinner and Truth

By unspoken agreement both Hermione and Ron filled out their incident reports without using Harry's name. They knew the moment that someone spotted Harry's name on a form he would be mobbed at the university or at his home. Only four hours after the incident at Harry's university it was apparent that the rogue they were tracking had once more disappeared into the background, with no residual magic or indication that the casting they had done affected them in any way. Ron knew that Hermione was starting to hypothesise about 'unconscious magic' and the like, which he hoped she was wrong about. That was a whole new bag of wet kneezles, and Ron didn't want to open it.

Charlie was reading Rose a story when Ron Flooed in, and Arthur was in the kitchen, getting underfoot as he examined appliances while Harry cooked. On the table in the dining room there was already a stack of books about electrical wiring and appliance repair, the kind that you bought to do it yourself. If Ron knew his father, Arthur would read and reread these to squeeze every last drop of information from them before returning the books and borrowing more.

Ginny Flooed in as Ron stepped into the hall, and Rose looked up from her story with Charlie curiously. She beamed when she spotted him and wriggled down off Charlie's lap, hurrying over for a hug and kiss, asking about his day and telling him that she'd made a very special picture just for him. Ginny appeared as Rose was promising to give it to him before bedtime, and she kissed her Aunty hello as well, patting the round belly that Ginny was sporting very gently before returning to Charlie to finish the story.

"Ron, can you give Rosebud her bath when the story is finished?" Harry called from the kitchen and Ron called an affirmative back, before offering Ginny a tour of the house. She accepted, and held his hand as he walked her through the downstairs section, and then led her slowly up the stairs to see the top floor. Once in the master bedroom, Ginny pushed the door shut and sat on the bed with a soft grunt.

Ron grinned at her fondly. Ginny was as beautiful now as she had been when she was a slender, grown woman. Not that he'd tell her that. She'd think there was something he wanted from her or that he was taking the piss. Ginny shifted on the bed until she was comfortable and folded her arms, fixing him with the glare that she'd learned from Molly.

"You and Harry are sleeping together aren't you?" her question was sharp and to the point, and Ron stalled for a moment, trying to think what her reaction to the truth might be. She'd always had a little crush on Harry, and he had the feeling that her boyfriends at school didn't last because she was comparing them mentally to his best friend.

"There's only one bed," he played dumb, and she glared at him, not at all fooled.

"I meant you're shagging him, Ron. Don't play dumb with me, I know better," her voice was stern and he sighed, leaning against the wall opposite with his hands in his pockets. Better to lay it all out before her now, rather than foster false hopes in her. He only hoped that she wouldn't be too badly hurt.

"Ginny… yes we're sleeping together. I've loved Harry for a very long time, and it turns out that he feels the same way," the conviction in his voice was crystal clear, but Ginny's reaction wasn't one he expected. She smiled happily and patted the bed beside her. When he sat down she slung an arm around him and he rubbed her back automatically, knowing that she was well into the back and leg ache stage.

"I'm glad to hear it Ron," Ginny said in a soft voice, "You deserve some happiness, and Harry too. Rosie loves you, I can tell, and… you'll be a great dad."

"Thanks," Ron murmured, and let her cuddle close for a while, this peaceful moment burning itself into his memory. He heard the patter of small feet up the stairs and Ginny stirred out of his arms, letting him get up and haul her to her feet.

"I'm going to go bother Harry in the kitchen," her eyes twinkled, "You give my niece her bath."

"Yes boss," Ron said lightly and opened the door before Rose could knock. She beamed up at him and took his hand, tugging him towards her room while Ginny laughed and waddled slowly down the stairs. Ron collected fresh clothes for Rose and admired the picture she'd drawn for him. It was of himself and Harry, standing in front of the Hutch with Rose held between them. It was very well drawn for someone of her age, and Ron realised that she'd inherited her mother's artistic ability. They agreed that they would hang the picture on her pin board, and then went to have her bath.

"You're staying forever, aren't you?" Rose asked as he combed her hair afterwards. She was flushed from the heat of the bath water, and sitting on his lap in her room contentedly.

"I am," Ron nodded, and she turned to hug him tightly.

"Good," the muffled reply was a blessing, and Ron made a mental note to tell Harry about it later. As it turned out he didn't have to - Rose announced it at dinner. Harry merely rolled his eyes and told her not to speak with her mouth full, and Ron wiped her chin where she had dribbled. If his best friend wasn't too concerned about being outed by his daughter, Ron could see no reason for panic. After all, they were together and Ron had no intentions of leaving.

0o0o0o0


	17. Foot Rubs

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Foot Rubs

Ron shifted his feet, letting Harry sit on the couch where he was sprawled. Only a few hours ago Ginny had been lying here while Harry gave her a foot massage that had put her to sleep. Arthur had woken her reluctantly, and Charlie had gone ahead through the Floo with the idea that he could steady her when she stepped out. Harry pulled Ron's feet into his lap now, and started rubbing them absently.

"Mmmmm," Ron wriggled closer, "Where did you learn to do that?"

"Sarah," Harry smiled fondly, "Her feet went up like balloons towards the end."

Ron let it drop, enjoying the massage immensely. He made appreciative noises, and Harry ended up laughing at him, ceasing the massage but still cradling Ron's feet. Other parts of Ron were interested in a massage now, but they could wait until Harry was also interested.

"What's happened to our class?" Harry's question came out of the blue, "Neville and Dean and all that?"

"Hmm," Ron muttered, peeling his eyes open and shifting, reaching for his friend. Harry wrestled with him lightly, until he was sprawled on top of Ron, snuggling into the redhead's chest and sighing happily when he was comfortable. Ron wondered where to begin, his classmates had scattered far and wide once graduation was done, and it was kind of interesting to think about. If he were going to tell Harry about their classmates, he'd actually have to start with someone who wasn't even from their school.

"Well, Fleur Delacour broke off her engagement to Bill the year after we graduated," Ron began, "She wanted him to stop travelling around the world and start working his way up the ladder in Gringotts. You know Bill - the job is about the action, not the money, and he'd be miserable behind a desk, so… she took up with someone who was already rich. Malfoy was of course hideously delighted until they were married and he realised he had to live with her. He's working in a potions lab, doing research. Snape got him into it."

Harry grunted and hugged Ron in a strange sort of comforting gesture that made Ron smile a little and hug him back. He thought that Bill had a lucky escape, and he knew his oldest brother felt the same way.

"Crabbe is working as a shop assistant in Knockturn Alley somewhere, and Goyle is working for Tom at the Leaky Cauldron. He hefts the stock about and sometimes the customers," Ron rubbed his hand idly over the small of Harry's back, "Pansy Parkington is working for the Ministry with Blaise Zabini. Seamus is their supervisor, and it's pretty funny to watch him order them about. Parvati and Lavender opened a teashop together. The shops pretty cool actually, they sell a huge variety, some really decent stuff. And of course they get a fair number of clairvoyants in there. They live above the shop and have three children between them to different fathers. I think they're married to each other, and Parvati is working on their fourth kid."

"Bloody hell, I'd never have guessed," Harry squirmed closer and Ron laughed.

"After you left, there was a … strange atmosphere to the school. It changed people," he kissed messy black hair and thought about who else was around, "Neville went to Wizard University and became a herbologist. He's always travelling in the field, comes back to Britain about once a year brown as a nut and full of wild tales. When Professor Sprout retires in ten years time the word is that he'll be offered her spot."

"Go Neville!" Harry cheered under his breath, and rubbed his hand over Ron's side, rucking up his shirt and burrowing down to warm skin. Ron leaned into the touch a little and tried harder to concentrate. Having Harry's fingers swirling idle patterns on his side was highly distracting.

"Padma Patil is working for the Daily Prophet as a reporter, and Colin Creevey is a photographer there too, and Luna Lovegood is working for her dad at the Quibbler. Hannah Abbot married Terry Boot and is a stay at home mum with six little kids; Terry is a bookbinder for one of the magical publishing houses. Susan Bones is working for the Wizengamot of course, and she married Justin Finch-Fletchly, who works for Gringotts as a liaison for the Muggle banks. And Cho Chang is an auror with Hermione and I, though we don't have much to do with her. Different area."

And the fact that Hermione had a habit of slapping the other woman when she started making a big deal out of her disastrous dates with Harry in his fifth year. Harry didn't need to know that and Ron didn't feel like disrupting their peace at the moment.

"I've missed so much," Harry mourned softly, and Ron nodded. His friend had missed a lot in the ten years he'd been away.

"You knew where we were," Ron reminded him without rancour, "You could have contacted us earlier."

"No I couldn't," Harry sat up abruptly before pulling away and pacing around the room, running his hands through already wild hair, "When he… when the Headmaster organised this for me he told me to stay away. He said that contacting anyone, especially you and your family, could be dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Ron hissed in fury, "Harry, surely you don't think…"

"No!" the word burst from Harry, "He… The Headmaster said that the Death Eaters would be watching for any sign that you knew where I was. There would be only two people I'd contact, the Headmaster who was safe at Hogwarts, or my family. They'd be watching your house for Hedwig, or signs that I was Flooing home. The Death Eaters tortured the Longbottoms into insanity to get information out of them… if they thought mum and dad knew where I was…I couldn't take that risk!"

"And I'll bet he reminded you of the Longbottom's," Ron growled, "Harry, he's been manipulating your life since you were born!"

Harry's shoulders slumped and he sagged to the floor abruptly. Ron leapt to his side, wrapping his arms and legs around his friend, who subsided against his chest, shaking a little.

"You didn't see what I was like," Harry's whisper floated on the air, "I was a mess Ron. I couldn't believe my magic was gone, and kept trying my wand. I couldn't eat or sleep much, and when I did I felt sick or had nightmares. At one point I climbed up onto the tallest building I could find with the intention of jumping, another time I sat with a knife to my wrist for hours."

Ron made a noise of horror and tightened his grip on Harry who huddled closer.

"I didn't… if I'd been with you all… I had to accept it Ron," Harry turned his head, leaning his forehead on Ron's cheek, "I wouldn't have if I'd seen you performing magic when I couldn't. I had to make my life work again, and it was hard, and I missed you all so much, and I wanted you with me, but I had to do it alone. Maybe the Headmaster's warning was just the excuse I needed to stay away."

"You're a protector, Harry, you always have been," Ron mumbled, "Old Dumbledore played on that to ensure you would stay away. He betrayed your trust, and abused you as badly as the Dursley's did."

Harry shivered and Ron gathered him closer, much as he had the day his friend defeated his greatest enemy and rocked them both on the floor, mourning with Harry the loss of the last ten years.

0o0o0o0


	18. Meetings and Revelations

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Meetings and Revelations

Hermione met him outside the superintendent's office. He had been leaning against the wall, staring moodily into his paper coffee cup. Last night had opened his eyes to the sheer will power that Harry had used to step back from a very frightening abyss. Ron had come close to losing Harry to suicide and had never even known it. Thank Merlin that Harry was so strong. He'd picked himself back up and gotten on with his life, something that Ron was determined to support in any way he could.

"How's your dad?" Ron asked, straightening up. Hermione smiled, looking at him closely and leaning in for their customary kiss good morning. She hugged him as well, something that told him she'd noticed his tension but was prepared to wait for him to tell her what was wrong.

"He's ok," she shrugged, "The doctors will be letting him go home by Thursday, and I thought I might have a try with the bone healing charms. If he wants."

Ron grinned; glad for the good news, and together they went to see superintendent Parker. The inspector they had originally dealt with had given the case to his superior to handle when it became apparent that there was some sort of serial bomber on the loose.

Superintendent Parker was a florid man with a very neat uniform, who sat stolidly behind his tidy desk. There was a small urn in the corner and this was used to offer them both tea before he settled down to the report in front of him.

"I have a copy of the list of witnesses and injured persons of course," he handed that straight to Ron, "However there's only nine people on it that were at both sites, and of those nine, one of them is of especial interest to me."

"Who might that be?" Hermione asked, leaning to look at the list.

"Professor Potter," Parker said clearly, and Ron looked up in shock. There was no way that Harry would endanger his daughter like that, and when Ron said that the superintendent leaned back with a smug look on his face.

"So it is true," he muttered, "You do know him."

"What?" Hermione shared a glance with Ron, and he tensed a little, ready to pull his wand if the superintendent said something he didn't like. He wasn't going to allow anyone to hurt Harry; his friend had been through enough.

"I've done some checking," Parker folded his arms on his desk calmly, "Young Professor Potter was in a right mess when he first came to Cambridge. There was a time when he was considered a suicide risk. However, whatever it was that happened to put him in such a state, he eventually got over and when he proved to be one of he smartest young men the University had seen for a while, every effort was made by the faculties he was studying under to keep him well occupied and steady."

"Harry said that the University was very good to him, especially in the first years, when he was so low," Ron confirmed, and Parker looked surprised at the interruption. Hermione was also surprised, but hid it so well that only Ron could have spotted it. It wasn't his story to tell though, so she'd have to ask Harry.

"Well, once he was steady," Parker re-crossed his arms, "Professor Potter became quite the tutor on campus. He got a lot of young men and women to pull their marks up to a reasonable standard, my own son included. He's generous with his time and efforts, not just to the Universities but to the local schools as well. We were all ready to support him in that ludicrous law suit young Miss Gardeners parents filed against him, not that he'd accept any help. This town has a lot of time for young Professor Potter, and with the new evidence that has come to light… well. I've taken the liberty of arranging for him to pop around this morning. As a courtesy you can sit in on the interview."

"When?" Ron was reduced to one-word questions, a dark sense of foreboding clouding his vision.

"He'll be here in ten minutes," Parker smiled, "I'll take you down to the interview rooms, shall I?"

0o0o0o0


	19. Tom Riddle for Muggles

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Tom Riddle for Muggles

The moment Harry stepped into the interview room, Ron locked eyes with him, trying urgently to convey his worries in one long look. Harry smiled gently, and shook Parkers hand before kissing Hermione's cheek and sitting next to Ron, his thigh pressed to the red heads.

"My friends seem to think that you're about to accuse me of something, Dave," Harry addressed the superintendent in a friendly tone, "Why is that?"

Ron felt a rush of relief that they could still speak to each other without words, that Harry could read them like a book, just as he had in school. He felt smug when the superintendent spluttered in surprise.

"What? How on earth…? I never…!"

"You implied that Harry was of particular interest to you in the matter of these bombs," Hermione's voice was sharp and no nonsense, but Harry put a hand on her wrist lightly.

"Yes, but not as a perpetrator," Parker snapped back, showing a bit of temper, "As you can see, young Harry, these so called friends of yours have very little faith in you."

Before Ron could explode in anger Harry spoke up, his voice as calm and easy as if he was discussing a shopping list with his daughter.

"They would never for a moment think that I was capable of such an act," the assurance in his voice was like a balm to Ron's nerves, "They are not the issue here, Dave. What's wrong?"

Parker slumped, flushing a little as the cool tone filled the room, and Ron relaxed. He should have known that Harry would have trusted them to know better. Things were still so new between them that Ron was still waiting to wake up from what seemed to be an impossibly lovely dream.

"We found this among the wreckage of the bomb site. It was in the box that contained the explosives, and only survived by blind luck," Parker pulled a plastic bag from his inner pocket and put it on the table. All three friends leaned forward to look and Hermione gasped in shock, while Harry went pale. Even Ron had to stop from grabbing for his friend.

There was a charred piece of paper in the plastic bag, with the fragmented letters 'otte' followed by some numbers underneath it.

"That's the middle of my phone number," Harry breathed, and turned to Ron for comfort, "Ron, what's going on?"

"I don't know, mate, but we're going to figure it out," Ron promised, and Hermione nodded emphatically. Parker frowned at them all, and cleared his throat.

"Harry, is there anyone with a grudge, or a known reason to do you harm?" the superintendent asked, and Ron boggled at the man. There were a few Death Eaters around still, though they knew better than to broadcast their former allegiance to the Dark Lord. They had a known grudge against Harry, and every now and then there would be an anti-Potter outburst in the Daily Prophet through the agency of a paid announcement. They were still holding onto the vain hope that Voldemort would return again, though the ten year anniversary of his defeat seemed to kill that hope dead. All this was well and good, but it left them with a more immediate problem. How do you explain Voldemort and the Death Eaters to a Muggle? Harry sighed and got up, folding his arms and pacing behind Ron's chair for a moment. Hermione shifted in hers and opened her mouth to try and explain, but was beaten to it by Harry himself.

"My parents were in law enforcement," the green-eyed man's voice was quiet and final. This was a tale he only intended to tell once, and Ron hoped that Parker would pick up on that, "They specialised in dealing with cults and gangs. They were part of a task force that was trying to shut down a man called Tom Riddle. He was particularly insidious, and he and his followers went after the task force with brutal efficiency. When they found out they were pregnant, they dropped out of the field for a while, taking desk jobs instead. Unfortunately Tom found them, and when I was about sixteen months old, he came to our house."

Ron was as captivated as the superintendent. This was the tale of the Boy Who Lived, told from his own point of view. Though the words he used were plain, the terms of reference simplistic, the underlying emotion behind them was all too real.

"He murdered mum and dad and blew up their house. Somehow, I survived, and he was also caught in the blast and disappeared to nurse his wounds. I was sent to live with my mothers sister, and when I was ready for high school I went to the same boarding school in Scotland that my parents went to when they were kids," Harry stopped where Hermione and Ron could see him and Ron felt a warm glow at the tender smile he bestowed upon both Aurors.

"I met two of the worlds best people there," he winked at Ron, "We made a good team."

"Yes we did," Hermione nodded, smiling back warmly, "Even if we did have to destroy the girls bathroom before we could talk to each other properly."

Ron laughed at the joke, and Harry chuckled, leaning against the wall. Parker looked confused, but there was no way that they could explain the troll at Halloween.

"Tom found me at school, though, and stalked me for the rest of my schooling," Harry's voice darkened, "He hurt a lot of people under the mistaken idea that if he could kill me he'd be able to take over the world. He interrupted an inter-House football match with his band of merry men, and tried to kill me in front of the whole school. Nearly everyone was in the stands watching at the time, and he … wanted an audience. There was a struggle, and … he was killed."

"Self defence," Parker said quietly, and Harry nodded grimly while Ron reeled in his chair, the impact of the simply told tale enough to steal his breath. Harry moved to his side, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"The Headmaster felt that it was better that I graduated early, and I came here," the conclusion of the tale was almost an anti-climax, and Parker sat back, his eyes going from one face to another.

"You're sure he's dead?" the Muggle asked and Harry nodded gently, "There's no one else you can think of?"

"No," the whisper was tired and Harry slumped back into his empty chair. Ron immediately put an arm around his shoulders and glared at Parker with impunity. The interview was wrapped up in short order, and Harry let Ron and Hermione steer him through the corridors and out into the early spring sunshine. Ron cast his gabble mouth charm on all three of them discretely, and Hermione directed them to the nearest park.

"It's not Voldemort, Harry," Ron promised, meeting miserable green eyes, "And most the Death Eaters are dead or locked up."

"Besides, it's a Muggle making the explosions, not a Wizard," Hermione confirmed, "There's only one other Wizard in town, and that's our rogue. Ron doesn't count."

Harry chuckled at Ron's indignant expression and Ron played it up a little, hoping to ease Harry back into the present with them, instead of brooding over his past. When he was sure that Harry was feeling a little better, Ron broke off his bickering with Hermione to raise a point that they hadn't covered in Parker's interrogation room.

"Look, Harry, if this person has your phone number, then could he also have your address?"

"Shit! I hadn't thought of that!" Harry exclaimed, "The number isn't listed! He must have access to more information about me than I thought!"

"Which means we need to set up a few wards around your house," Hermione said firmly, and Ron nodded, another thought occurring to him.

"And Rose needs to go to the Burrow," he looked his friend in the eye, "She's safer there for now, in case the bastard decides to have a go at her as well. This rogue may not be in the area the next time a bomb goes off."

Harry paled once more, but nodded resolutely. Hermione made arrangements to go with him to pick up his daughter, and Ron found a discrete place to apparate to his mothers home, where he warned her that she was about to have a guest.

0o0o0o0


	20. Part 4 Ice cream and Desert

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Part 4 - Ice cream and desert

The wards were not hard to erect. It was almost as if the house recognised the protective magic for what it was and accepted it easily. Muggle houses had been known to resist magical wards, for no reason that the smartest of Witches and Wizards could determine. Ron was grateful that the house hadn't fought them about the protection, and left it at that.

Rose was with her Nanny and Poppy, much to her delight. At Harry's insistence, they hadn't told her why she was going, just that it was a surprise treat. Molly had pulled Harry aside and promised to watch over her granddaughter carefully, and to give her mainly non-magical toys. Harry had already spoken to the Weasley's about the way he wanted his daughter raised. If she were destined for Hogwarts then she'd go as a Muggle born, just like Hermione had. Magical toys had no place in a Muggle house anyway, as it was a violation of the secrecy act, but Ron had been impressed that his best friend could face his foster family down over the issue, rather than passively relying on that law to do his dirty work for him.

Hermione had called her fathers room at the hospital and told them that she had a 'friend in need'. Her dad told her she didn't need to visit and he'd see her at home tomorrow. Ron was glad for her company, as Harry was totally silent as he prepared a dinner for the three of them. Hermione signalled for Ron not to pressure the dark haired man, and he acquiesced reluctantly. His patience was rewarded when Harry dished up, put the plates on the table and kissed them both lightly before taking his seat. His foot hooked around Ron's underneath the table, and Ron smiled at him. The silence lost its anxious quality and they ate their dinner with good appetite.

Harry was dishing out ice cream for afters when the fireplace whooshed, and Kinglsey Shacklebolt's head appeared in the green flames.

"Weasley, are you there… Merlin's beard!"

"Don't say his name!" Hermione and Ron shouted and Shacklebolt closed his mouth with an audible click. Harry dragged a hand through his hair and turned back to dishing up the ice cream with a sort of determined resignation.

"Step through, sir," Ron suggested strongly and a moment later the senior auror was standing in front of the fireplace, staring at the former Boy Who Lived.

"Weasley," Shacklebolt said reluctantly, "You know you can't connect the Floo to a Muggle house."

Ron gaped at his boss in shock, and even Hermione seemed taken aback. They had not expected this to be the mans first words in Harry's house. Harry put the spoon he was using down and eyed Shacklebolt from top to bottom.

"My daughter is a Witch, I'm an ex-Wizard, and Ron will be moving in here once he gets his current assignment finished," the words were crisp and clear, "Under the circumstances, the connection is not illegal. Would you like some ice cream?"

"Err… yes, thanks," Ron had to hide a snigger as his boss failed to resist the force of nature that was Harry when determined. They took their seats, and the ice cream was consumed in silence. When the last morsel had been spooned up, Ron waved his wand and got the dishes started.

"You wanted to see us, sir?" Hermione asked as if he hadn't just accidentally located a missing hero. Auror Shacklebolt took a deep breath and slid his professional mask back into place.

"Yes, I wanted to get an update on this rogue business. What's taking so long?"

"Well sir, who ever it is, simply isn't using magic unless it's an emergency," Ron sighed, "Then its one big spell and nothing afterwards. We have a number of people to interview who were at both sites at the time of the surge, and we're hoping to make a breakthrough soon."

"Is this unconscious magic?" the bald man asked, and Ron hesitated, looking at Hermione for help. Unconscious magic would mean they'd have to bring in Seers and clairvoyants and all sorts of complex tracking and branding spells. Not to mention that practitioners of unconscious magic were usually stripped of their abilities summarily. The procedure was brutal and often left the 'patient' severely traumatised.

"We're not sure, sir. We were thinking about putting in a request for a clairvoyant at the end of the week," she said firmly, "We need a little more time to get through our duplicates list, and of course there's the problem of protecting Harry. The Muggle authorities seem to think he's a bit of a target, which means he was present at both incidents."

"I see," Shacklebolt frowned, "And I take it you interviewed Potter about the incident."

"Yes sir," Hermione nodded, and Shacklebolt sighed sadly. Ron wondered what that was all about but dismissed it from his mind at his superior's next words.

"Very well, I'm changing your assignment. You're to pursue the rogue by all usual channels, and simultaneously assist Muggle authorities with their investigation in any way you see fit. The Wizarding world owes a life debt a thousand times over, and it would be… ungracious of me to not recognise that in this instance."

Ron sagged in relief. That new mission directive would allow him to protect Harry with all that he had, and to actively go after the person targeting Harry. There was no doubt in Ron's mind that Harry was a target here - as their friend Hagrid had said during the Tri Wizard Cup 'everything seems to happen to you'. Shaklebolt left not long after, and the moment the green fire was out Ron launched himself at Harry, kissing him enthusiastically in his relief.

"This is great Harry," Hermione sounded like she was beaming from where she was standing, "Now we've got sanction to assist the Muggle authorities we can help keep you safer."

Harry seemed to think it was great too, though Ron was fairly sure it was the kisses and little strokes of Ron's fingers that he was appreciating the most. They hadn't broken for air yet, though Harry had made an 'mmm' noise in response to Hermione's comments.

"Honestly you two! I'm going to see dad," she clucked her tongue, her tone affectionate even as she scolded, hugged them both very briefly and apparated away with a small pop. Ron used the opportunity to start pulling at Harry's clothes. Originally he and Hermione had plans to wear Harry out through conversation and games, but this was a much better way to ensure that Harry slept well tonight.

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	21. Potter Catches the Snitch!

A big thankyou to all my reviewers - this positive feedback is so cool! 

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Potter catches the Snitch!

They were going to meet Harry for lunch. He was working in one of the smaller universities today, and Ron was hoping to see a bit of whatever it was his friend did. Harry knew all about Ron's world, and magic, and Ron had answered every wistful question about being an Auror that Harry had cared to ask. Harry hadn't been quite so forthcoming about his job; in fact he was very diffident about the whole thing.

They had only three more names on their list to interview by the time Ron and Hermione strolled down the corridor leading to where Harry was. The redhead had sought and been given permission to place a small tracking spell on Harry's watch, in order to be able to find his best friend when he needed to. Harry had taken the request in the spirit it was intended, one from a lover concerned about his partner. They'd spent a few very nice minutes pressed against a wall in the hallway exploring that gesture, and Hermione had walked in on them, scolding lightly once more when she realised what they were up to and making them laugh as they broke apart.

Harry was working in something called a 'server room' when they arrived, but Ron could see no sign of food or waiters. The room was well lit, and there was a small group of students standing around, watching someone who was sitting in front of two screens, his hands a continuous blur of graceful motion as the watched the screens reaction.

"Can I help you?" one of the girls whispered, and Hermione shook her head, pointing at the dark haired man, who was so intent on his labours that he didn't even look up. With a shock, Ron realised where he'd seen that sort of focus before.

"We're here to have lunch with Professor Potter," Hermione whispered back, "What's going on?"

"Some idiot freshman decided to hack into the server to retrieve a file he wasn't supposed to have access to," the girl rolled her eyes, "There was spy ware on his computer, and someone is yanking all our data off the server. Professor Potter isolated the lab, and he's trying to get the data back and shut the attacker down for good."

"Did you see that?" someone else hissed, and she turned back to watch whatever it was Harry was doing. The small group fell silent again and Ron glanced around. There were many of the things called computers in here, including some that had obviously been taken apart. He couldn't see any damage to the pieces, and wondered how the freshman had hacked in without damaging the machines he saw. He also couldn't see any spies in the room, and decided that this was one of the Muggle/Wizard things where words had more than one meaning. He decided to make a determined effort tonight to get a proper explanation from Harry and Hermione and settled in to watch his friend.

He couldn't follow the prompts that were flashing on the screen - the words made no sense and they passed by quickly, but it was evident that the students here could. As they were older than the average freshman, Ron assumed that these were the advanced class, and therefore could be expected to understand what they were seeing even if they couldn't emulate it at these speeds. Harry's face in profile was intent, his green eyes flashing with the reflected light, and Ron had a smug moment of 'mine' which he repressed sternly. He belonged to Harry just as much as Harry belonged to him, and possessiveness was an ugly trait in a lover if it went too far.

There was a gasp and the screens stopped flashing, replaced with a simple message that made both Ron and Hermione laugh incredulously. 'Gryffindor wins!' in maroon and gold letters floated on a blue background and Harry turned, his eyes widening in surprise even as he blushed in embarrassment.

"Yeah, well," he shrugged at the laughing pair and Ron reached over to clap his shoulder gently. Harry grinned in reply and turned back to his work, his movements almost languid after the frantic rush of just moments ago.

"Right," he called to his students, "I got all the data back and left a nice little surprise of my own for the git. I want you to go into the lab and shut every single computer down, then physically disconnect it from the network. We'll have to scour each drive independently, and then check the server again before the lab can reopen. Maddy, there are five disks of mine in the blue box with the programs you'll need, so get started. I want each computer checked twice before we open the lab again."

"What about Professor Taft's composition class? They've booked the lab for today," Maddy asked, even as she walked briskly across the room. The screens behind Harry shut off the Gryffindor message and he got up and stretched for a moment, his lean body a tempting display that had Ron very interested in moments. From the look Harry gave him that had been the idea, and Hermione tsked under her breath. From the corner of his eye Ron spotted at least two other people eyeing Harry, which just went to show what good taste he had in men.

"I'll deal with Taft when it comes up," Harry replied wryly, and the student nearest the door glanced out into the corridor.

"Oh good," he said, "Here he comes."

Harry rolled his eyes and walked over to where the two Aurors were standing. He leaned in and lowered his voice, making them lean in as well.

"You might just want to have your wands ready - Taft can be a bit of a dramatist," the joking tone was welcome, as it reassured both Aurors that Harry was in a good mood after the memories dragged up yesterday. Ron made a production of placing his hand at the cuff of his sleeve, as if he was about to push it up and whip his wand out. Harry snickered and went to deal with the pompous man that was already demanding explanations as to why the door was locked.

What followed was nothing short of a battle royale. Harry never raised his voice, and barely moved from his easy slouch in the doorway as he explained quietly and calmly that the lab was out of order due to unforeseen sabotage and that the Professor would have to reschedule his time. Harry was polite throughout the explanation, while Taft got increasingly rude and irate. Ron could understand the other mans point of view - he had made plans for his class that hinged on the availability of the lab - but at the same time he was surprised the man could be so unprofessional. It wasn't Harry's fault the idiot had chosen now to sabotage the server, and it was certainly not a personal attack, as he seemed to claim.

"Why doesn't Professor Potter go get Walters? Isn't he head of faculty with Richardson on leave?" one of the students near Ron muttered as he carefully sifted through a pile of round shiny discs. Maddy shook her head.

"Walters only deals with the research labs here. With Professor Richardson away, Professor Potter is the head of the faculty, because he deals with the public and speciality labs. Walters won't come down from research to deal with these problems, and although Professor Potter is only here part time, he deals with a larger area than Walters, so he's in charge," Maddy whispered and then shooed the rest of the senior students into the main lab.

Ron had a very nice glow going over the student's obvious respect for his friend, and even Hermione was beaming proudly. Harry dispatched Taft with a few more polite comments and then closed the door, turning to look at his friends. His eyes narrowed suspiciously and he folded his arms, tilting his head and hitting them with a mild glare that made Ron want to confess. To anything.

"What?" Harry asked, and Ron grinned, going over and stealing a brief but passionate kiss, grateful that the students had gone next door.

"You're sexy when you're authoritarian," he muttered and Harry grinned wickedly, making bits of Ron that had calmed down regain their interest.

"We'll see about that later," it was a promise that sent a very pleasurable shiver down the red heads spine.

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	22. Technicolour Yawn

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Technicolour Yawn

They ate in an outdoors café. The tables were set out on the grass, and the kitchen itself was little more than a hole in the wall with a blackboard menu.

"The weather is unusually warm," Harry remarked as he sat at his ease. He had an arm draped over the back of Hermione's chair and Ron smiled fondly at them both. It was good to see them sitting together, so comfortable and relaxed. Two of the most important people in Ron's world were with him enjoying unusual spring weather. What could possibly be better?

"Lunch!" Ron smiled as the waiter arrived with their plates of food and both Hermione and Harry laughed. His appetite had levelled off after a while, though he was still what his mother referred to as a walking dustbin when it came to food. His lanky frame never seemed to gain extra weight, though he exercised vigorously during down time to keep up his fitness.

Hermione had ordered a warm chicken salad, which came in a huge bowl and made her eyes widen in surprise. Harry had also opted for a salad, Greek with large squares of feta and olives and a spicy dressing that Ron could scent on the air. Ron's decidedly unhealthy sandwich with the lot, including a fried egg didn't look any less appetising beside these healthy offerings and he dug in with gusto.

They fell to talking in that shorthand code that they'd used almost instinctively at school, discussing Rose's upcoming fourth birthday. Harry's pride in his daughter was there for all to see, and Ron basked in that sight, glad that despite his losses Harry was happy. Hermione and Ron both wanted to take Rose out for a treat somewhere, and Harry suggested a trip to London for a day. The two Aurors could handle her for a day between them - this was suggested slyly - and Harry would meet them at the Burrow so Molly and Arthur could see her on her birthday as well.

"What about you?" Ron asked anxiously, "Don't you want her for the day?"

"I can come along if you like," Harry smiled, "I just thought you'd like the day with her to yourself."

"I would," Hermione nodded, "But not her birthday, Harry. She should have you for that."

"Ok," Harry nodded agreeably and grimaced at the forkful he'd just put in his mouth, "Man, they must have changed the dressing. This is not as nice as usual."

"You could order something else," Ron suggested, wiping his mouth at Hermione's glare, "You've put a fair dent in this one."

"Nah," Harry pushed the half empty bowl away, "I'm pretty full anyway."

"So what were you planning to do with Rose during the holidays?" Hermione asked, nibbling at a bit of chicken. Harry leaned back in his chair again, though he didn't look quite as comfortable as before.

"Same thing I do every year, take her shopping for spring and summer clothes. We had a big tidy of her cupboard and got rid of the clothes that don't fit her anymore, and now is the time to replace them. I usually throw her on the train to London and go through Camden Markets with her for some bargains. There are plenty of other places to shop too. She needs new sandals and some trainers for playing in the park, but we'll get those here I think."

"Are you ok, Harry?" Ron frowned. The dark haired man was rubbing his stomach a little and leaning forward in his chair by the end of his last sentence and Harry shrugged a little.

"Heart burn," his voice was strained, and Hermione put her fork down to rub his back. Harry's face was starting to lose colour and his breath hitched uneasily. Ron discretely conjured a glass of water and shifted around the table to pass it to his friend. Harry took a sip and grimaced, putting the glass on the table roughly and turning away from them both, leaning forward in his chair and panting roughly. Hermione got up too, and started to lean over their friend when Harry convulsed and spewed.

Ron grimaced even as the other patrons at the tables reacted. Harry was heaving hard, with barely enough time to breathe between paroxysms. Vomit was all over his friend's legs and shoes and Hermione whirled to call to the waiters while Ron held Harry in his chair, uncaring of the mess that was covering his own clothes as well. Harry's body was shuddering uncontrollably with each fresh bout of illness.

"Get an ambulance!" Hermione ordered, and Ron saw with horror that there was blood in Harry's vomit now, which meant that he was starting to eject his stomach lining.

"Ron, it must be poison," Hermione tossed the water from the conjured glass out and scooped some of Harry's salad into it, making sure she got the dressing as well, "I'm going to Snape."

Ron nodded as Hermione ran for the corner, knowing that she'd apparate as soon as she was clear. Harry whimpered in his grasp, and Ron took a towel from the waiter that was hovering with a revolted expression, wiping his friend's face carefully. Harry was panting weakly, sweat pouring off him in buckets, completely unable to sit in the chair on his own. Ron discovered when he shifted to get a better grip that one of Harry's hands was knotted in his shirt, an arrangement that Ron made no effort to disturb. Sirens sounded in the distance and Ron hoped that the Muggles would be able to do something for his friend, who was starting to retch again, moans interspersed with gags and gasps for air.

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	23. Aid and Comfort

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Aid and comfort

Ron had activated his charm the moment the Muggle Healers left Harry's cubicle. The charm acted like a homing device for the portkey that Hermione carried with her. It was an invention of his own, and one that was unique to the partners. If word got out that Aurors regularly carried such things, any captor searching them would remove their secret weapon. He'd also put Muggle repelling wards on the curtains, which would allow them to practice magic undisturbed.

Hermione had gone to the best Potions Master in the British Isles, even if he was the head of Slytherin's house and hated Harry with a passion. Since Voldemort had been destroyed ten years ago the man had been able to devote more time to his research, and old Dumbledore had hired him an assistant to teach the first through fourth years. This actually improved the average potion grade in the younger years, as the assistant was able to teach without withering scorn or complete bias. Those scores didn't drop much under Snape's tutelage as the assistant apparently managed to instil a good skills base that even Snape's venom couldn't erode.

Harry was mostly unconscious. The Muggles had tied him down with soft foam restraints while they did awful things to him, which Harry had struggled against feebly. Ron had to grit his teeth and stay back, trusting them to help Harry until Snape could arrive.

The Aurors had a small potions and analysis centre in their own facility, and although they were good, they were not fast. Even emergency work could take a little while, and Ron wasn't willing to wait a single second longer than necessary to get Harry the help he needed. If it had been possible, Ron would have preferred to take his friend to a proper Healer, at St Mungo's, but they didn't accept Muggles, and Harry's past status as a Wizard might not have been enough to get him through the doors. The hospital wing at Hogwarts would have been closer to Snape, but also closer to Dumbledore. Ron didn't want his friend near the manipulative old coot ever again, especially not when he was ill.

Harry moaned weakly and pulled on the cuffs. He'd been propped up with a lot of pillows at his head and knees, in a posture designed to keep the tension off his abused stomach muscles. There were ice packs on his body, and he'd been given several nasty looking injections that had immediately robbed him of the ability to move about properly. Being tied down and so helpless must have been terrifying, and Ron waved his wand, making the restraints disappear as he stepped to Harry's side and took his hand carefully.

"Hush, I'm here," he whispered softly, "Take it easy."

"Ron," Harry whimpered, his hand clutching spastically at the redheads fingers. Ron leaned down and kissed Harry's temple tenderly, rubbing their fingers together and murmuring soft nonsense to the ill man. Harry's half open eyes found his and the green gaze locked on, begging for reassurance and comfort. Ron was only too glad to give it, carding fingers through Harry's hair so gently that there were no snags or tugs, and whispering how it would be all right and his friend would feel better soon.

He heard the peculiar whoosh of a portkey arrival and turned to see Snape and Hermione standing in a corner of the cubicle. Hermione had one hand in the sleeve of Snape's robes, and she used that grip to haul the potions master forward now. Snape was glaring suspiciously at his surroundings, and opened his mouth to demand an explanation when he realised whom the Muggle on the bed was.

Harry's hair was revealing the pale scar, and the glare on Snape's face was instantly replaced with a look of shock. Once more the potions master opened his mouth to speak, but Ron cut him off, not willing to listen to Snape's usual vitriol when it came to the only child of James Potter.

"Did you discover the poison?" the Muggles were also doing their own analysis, but Snape was the best, after all.

"Muggle cleaning agents," Snape replied dryly, scooping up the chart at the foot of Harry's bed and reading it over quickly. He pulled three vials out of his pocket and mixed the contents together, shaking the resulting concoction to mix it and moving to stand opposite Ron. The greasy haired man removed the stopper and slid a hand under Harry's head, tilting his head back and causing his mouth to open. In a trice the contents of the vial had been tipped into the sick man's mouth and Harry choked and swallowed, making a soft noise of protest at the arbitrary treatment.

"Shush Harry," Hermione put her hand on Harry's leg in concern, "It will make you better."

"It's all right, mate, we're here," Ron added, slipping his fingers back into Harry's and squeezing reassurance. He ignored Snape's wordless sneer until Harry was once more settled, breathing slowly and lying listless on the bed.

"He'll need to take another dose in one hour," Snape's voice was implacable, "And there is a follow up potion that I will need to brew for him."

Pale hands were mixing another set of vials together, and the resulting mustard yellow potion was thrust at Ron. He took it numbly, watching Snape step back, an unreadable look on his face as he stared down at the man on the bed.

"I will be back in seventy five minutes, Weasley," Snape looked up at him, "Do not allow the Muggles to administer any further poisons to him."

"You mustn't tell anyone…" Hermione began and Snape made an impatient movement of his hand, cutting her off.

"You made that perfectly clear when you dragged me away from my luncheon," the dry voice hung in the air as its owner apparated away, and Hermione sighed, coming up to the spot where the potion master had stood to take Harry's other hand. Together the partners went about ensuring Harry's comfort and peace, touching him tenderly and reassuring him as best they could. Ron was grateful that Rose had been sent to his mothers, knowing that it was one less thing for Harry to fret over while they waited for the potion to take effect.

Harry opened his mouth willingly at Ron's request an hour later, his only reaction to the potion a grimace of distaste. There was a little more colour in his cheeks now, and he seemed more alert. He was following their movements with his eyes and able to whisper soft responses to their questions. Ten minutes later Snape reappeared with a fizzing goblet of something or other that Harry closed his mouth to like a little child until Ron climbed into bed behind him and whispered in his ear as he propped him up. Harry took the potion from the red head that he refused from Snape, and shuddered at the taste.

"He'll want to sleep for a while, but when he wakes he will be able to return to whatever he calls home," Snape's tone was at odds with his words, the expected edge of hatred missing, "The Muggles can examine him in three hours time. Anything they administer to him will have no further effect - I have prevented that with the last potion. I assume you will be seeking his attacker?"

"Yes," Hermione said softly, not looking away from the sight of Harry cuddled into Ron, seeking the comfort of the redhead's arms in his pain. Snape was staring at them too, and that was the image that stuck with Ron when the man apparated away without the least courtesy of leave-taking.

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	24. Third Time's a Charm

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Third times a charm

"Feeling better?" Hermione's soft question woke Ron from his awkward doze in the chair, and he lay still for a moment, thinking about where he was and whose hand was wrapped in his hair.

"Yeah," Harry's roughened voice sounded painful, and Hermione eased that discomfort with a glass of conjured water and a straw. When the green-eyed man spoke again his voice was clearer, though still soft, "I don't think I'll want any fancy food for a while though."

Hermione chuckled and fussed a little on her side of the bed. Ron used the small disturbance to wake fully and lifted his head cautiously, trying not to pull his hair or dislodge Harry's hand. The red head was being greedy, he knew, but this simple touch was a great source of comfort to him.

"Hey there," Ron smiled sleepily, "Ready to go home?"

"Can I?" Harry asked eagerly, and Ron nodded, getting up as Harry let go and stretching carefully, easing the kinks out. They'd let the Muggles in once Snape's deadline had passed, and the doctors had said that Harry was recovering remarkably and could go home as soon as he woke and satisfied their concerns.

"The doctors said that if you could meet their requirements you could go home when you woke," Hermione told her friend, "You'll be on a bland diet for a while, and Snape may want another look at you."

"I thought I dreamed that," Harry's voice sounded bewildered, "He really came? How hard did you have to hex him?"

"He didn't know it was you," Hermione admitted, "And he'd promised not to talk."

Harry nodded, relaxing back into his pillows and letting Hermione summon the doctor. Ron reflected that the messy haired man was taking Snape's sudden excursion into his life rather well. It might be a different story once Harry woke up properly, but for now Ron would take what he could get.

After an hour of poking and prodding, Harry was released to go home, on the understanding that an adult would supervise him for the next three days. Harry was relieved at that, and went happily, dressed in clothes that Hermione had cleaned with a very strong charm to remove both the stains and the odour. She'd also changed their colours so the doctors didn't realise what they'd done and that their patient was wearing clothes that had been stained with emesis only hours ago.

As they walked down the corridor to the hospitals reception area, Ron realised that a lot of the university students and teachers were present. At the sight of Harry people got up and moved forward, asking how he was, and if he felt ok. This evidence that Harry had a real place in this world warmed Ron's heart, and Hermione's smile could only have gotten wider if they'd moved her ears back.

"Professor? Someone dropped this off for you," one of the female students pointed to a box on a low table in the reception area and Harry frowned, walking over to it cautiously with Ron at his side. The former Wizard had kept firm hold of Ron's hand ever since he'd gotten dressed, and Ron was more than happy to indulge his lover.

The box was medium sized and white, like something a delivery would come in. The lid was not fastened and there was no card. Ron had a funny feeling as Harry reached out and flipped the lid off. The student that had pointed the box out screamed at the sight of the flashing red numbers that were counting down from ten to zero, and Ron gasped in shock even as he flicked his wrist to call his wand forth.

"A bomb!" someone shouted and there was instant panic. Even as Ron raised his wand to banish the box - and out of the corner of his eye he could see Hermione doing the same thing - there was a huge surge of magic from somewhere in the panicking crowd around them.

The timer hit zero, and there was a shudder. Nothing happened, though the box became a little scorched and one side vaporised completely. Ron cast a few spells and immediately understood what had happened even as Harry gasped in shock and staggered in place. The rogue had once more been present and had neutralised the explosion by simply vanishing it. This was an indication of the magical strength of their quarry, and perhaps of their skills as well. It took great accuracy and power to catch the expanding nimbus of an explosion and dissipate the energy so the people and objects surrounding it were safe.

Ron slung an arm around Harry and half carried him to a chair while Hermione made sure that the bomb was completely safe. The redhead nodded when Hermione signalled all clear, and looked around the now deserted reception. They were definitely looking for someone from the university crowd, and he hoped that the Muggle authorities would be able to help them narrow the list down again.

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	25. What If?

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What if?

Harry was asleep upstairs, and there were charms on the bed to warn them if he woke or needed anything. Ron had set them after his lover was asleep, glad that he'd started practicing the nursery spells for when Ginny became a mother, not knowing at the time that he was already an uncle. Hermione was sitting in the kitchen with every file, piece of parchment and note spread across Harry's dining room table. Ron made a pot of tea and rummaged for the biscuit tin, and together they sat down and went over the evidence from start to finish.

The phone interrupted them, and Hermione went to get the updated list of people present at the hospital while Ron snuck upstairs to cuddle with Harry. Despite the fact that his friend was exhausted and shocked by the bomb in the lobby being delivered for him personally, the doctors had been unable to persuade Harry to stay in overnight, and Ron had taken him home. He and Hermione had wrestled their resistant friend into bed, firmly quelling any offers of assistance with the investigation, and the moment his head hit the pillow Harry was asleep. He didn't wake when Ron crawled in with him, though he did roll over and snuggle close, murmuring happily when his face was buried in Ron's neck. That gave the redhead a warm glow, and he held Harry until Hermione stuck her head around the door and smiled fondly at them both. Ron climbed out reluctantly and went to do his duty. The sooner they caught this guy the sooner he and Harry could get their lives sorted.

Three hours later they sat back from the table, glaring at the pieces of paper that wouldn't cooperate.

"None of them have been at all three sites," Ron summed up. Hermione had her thinking frown on, and he tapped the table top with a finger impatiently, "In fact well over half the list have only been at the one site and that was the hospital. We know it's the same rogue, because the signature is the same. The only person who was at all three sites was Harry, and he was the focus of the attacks."

Hermione put her hand up sharply for silence and Ron quieted. When his partner frowned like that he'd found it useful to sum things up briefly, which often kicked her thought processes off and let her figure out whatever it was she thought she was missing. This was something he'd learned to do at school with Harry, and the pattern had continued in later years.

"Ron, that's it!" Hermione whispered suddenly, "I know who the rogue is!"

"Who?" Ron asked quietly, glancing at the mess on the table, "Someone we missed… not on the list?"

"Harry!" Hermione replied, and for a moment Ron thought his friend had risen without setting off the charms. The kitchen doorway was empty though and he turned back to his partner, who was staring at him intently, willing him to understand. He frowned and then shook his head, hating to quash the joy in Hermione's eyes.

"Two things. One, Harry is a Muggle, and two; his magical signature is on file. We'd have matched it to the rogue if it was him."

The soft statement did nothing to deter his partner, who shook her head and actually wriggled on her chair. He hadn't seen her do that for ten years, and the motion got his co-operation better than glares and threats would.

"Hear me out, ok?" she waited until he had nodded and took a deep breath, the old light of discovery burning in her eyes, "After Harry killed Voldemort, there were all sorts of theories and reasons why he'd become a Muggle. Old Dumbledore's was the one accepted in the end, and nearly everyone put Harry out of their minds afterwards. Dumbledore said that when Voldemort first tried to kill Harry he forged a connection between them, as the visions and parsel tongue proved. That connection was a magical one, and there wasn't enough magic to sustain both Harry and Voldemort at the same time. Because Voldemort was the one actively casting at the time, the curse backlashed on him, but the connection remained, which allowed them both to survive. As he grew up, Harry learned to use Voldemort's magic in order to become a Wizard. When Harry killed Voldemort he essentially killed him using his own source of magic, which was destroyed in the process. Without Voldemort's magic, Harry was a Muggle."

"That means Harry was a squib," the thought hit Ron out of no where and Hermione beamed at him as he once more read her mind and followed the path of her thoughts. This was why they were such a good team.

"Harry was a Squib and then the connection formed by Voldemort turned him into a Wizard. That's not right though, because Lupin clearly said at Harry's 16th birthday that he'd turned his dads hair bright green when he was one because James had stood on one of Harry's toys. A Squib couldn't do that!" Ron got up to pace, and Hermione nodded, taking up the trail once more.

"Dumbledore was wrong. Voldemort was killed by the backlash of the curse he used when Harry was sixteen months old, but because there was a connection formed by whatever it was _Harry_ did, Voldemort didn't die. Instead he hung around for sixteen years, using Harry's magic as if it was his own," Hermione said intensely, and Ron understood the emotions behind her tone.

"So Harry's magic was only ever at half power? Hermione you know he was a strong Wizard, look at the way he managed to learn the Patronus charm in our third year. If he was only operating at half power that would mean…" Ron frowned, and Hermione nodded enthusiastically.

"We both saw first hand how difficult it was for Harry to learn some things, new and complex spells always gave him some trouble, and you know that his casting could be erratic unless he was really focussed," she waved a hand around for emphasis, "Harry's magic was split and tainted and that is why the signature we have recorded for him doesn't match our rogue."

"Because Voldemort's magical signature was overlying Harry's. Harry even told me his wand and Voldemort's shared the same core. If Voldemort was perverting Harry's natural abilities, then the wand that chose him would be reacting to that," Ron's eyes lit up, "He told me that ten years ago he'd try to cast a simple spell and nothing would happen. If the wand was really badly mismatched to him, he'd get no response."

"Plus, it's not unheard of for a Wizard to strain his abilities so badly that he becomes temporarily magic-less," Hermione added, "According to procedure, Madam Pomfrey and the other Healers would have been looking for Harry's old signature, not his new one, and with his magic depressed by the strain of ridding himself of Voldemort…"

"They'd have decided he was a Muggle," Ron nodded, "Because they'd never had to treat someone who'd just battled against his own magic."

"Now all we have to do is prove it," Hermione frowned. Ron met her eye steadily, and after a moment she got up. There was one simple spell that would prove or disprove their theory and change Harry's life forever. He followed her up the stairs to Harry's room.

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	26. Part 5 You're a Wizard Harry

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Part 5 - You're a Wizard Harry

The power and potential spell was not common knowledge. Only select Aurors and Unspeakabes knew it, as it took quite a bit of strength on the part of the caster themselves. The spell itself was deceptively simple. It caused a resistance reaction in the subject's magic, which showed as an aura for the caster to read. Babies that had magical ability usually had a shell pink aura, which darkened as they grew. The pale pink aura of Rose was normal for her age and development. As she got older the pink would get darker. Strong Witches and Wizards had a red tinge to their aura, and really powerful ones were red. It was rumoured that Grindlewald had been a dull red, and that Dumbledore was a wine colour. Merlin had of course been a rich purple, as had Morgana. Both Slytherin and Gryffindor had been a light purple, which was surpassed by the deeper tones of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Ron found himself hoping that Harry was at least pink.

They tiptoed up the stairs, despite the fact that Hermione had laid her best silencing charms on Harry's room so as to not disturb him. They tended to argue at the top of their voices, as the friend that had once acted as their referee had been exiled for saving them all. It was a hard habit to break, and out of consideration for Harry they had taken the precaution of erecting the charms. He'd just come down and referee if they didn't and as much as it would feel like old times the man needed his rest.

In the dawn light they could see that Harry was wrapped around the pillow Ron had claimed as 'his', the dark haired man's face pressed deeply into the slip for its scent. The blankets were half off and he had rolled onto his side, facing the door even though he was in the middle of the bed.

"Right where I left him," Ron smiled and Hermione leaned against him for a moment. They stood there, enjoying the sight of Harry sleeping peacefully, no nightmares or pain marring his rest. He'd had atrocious sleeping habits in school, mainly because of Voldemort, and nothing short of a potion could get him to rest some nights. They were lucky that Madam Pomfrey hadn't caught them nicking the potions from her stores, although in sixth year Hermione had started brewing for them instead. It was easier to get ingredients by mail to avoid Snape's notice, and she was confident by that stage that she wouldn't accidentally poison someone.

After a moment Hermione stirred and pulled her wand. The incantation was but a whisper, and Ron held his breath as the spell touched Harry. The sleeping man was enveloped in a shell pink glow, just as Rose had been. Her aura had darkened to pale pink, and Harry's darkened even further. He matched and then surpassed the red tinged pink that Ron and Hermione both showed when the spell was cast on them, and then passed the ruby red claret that Dumbledore was rumoured to be. Hints of purple entered the aura, and Ron gripped Hermione's hand tightly as the pale purple colour settled around Harry like a living cloak, staying steady for the requisite ten seconds before fading entirely.

Harry slept on, totally undisturbed. They had found their Rogue.

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	27. Dads Old Cloak

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Dads old cloak

Back in the kitchen they had stumbled around the issue for a little while before Ron managed to face it head on. What the knowledge would mean to Harry was one thing, but what it meant to them was something else.

"Look," Ron said at length, dragging a hand through already wild hair, "We can make a strong argument, that he's not a rogue, because he's been through Hogwarts and got his OWLS. They don't need to worry about him trying to unseat the Ministry or expose our world or gather followers because Harry just simply wouldn't. If we get him a proper wand, one that suits him, then he'd be registered with Ollivander and the problem would be solved. Shacklebolt will let us sign the case off as a protected informant, and no one will be the wiser. Shacklebolt and Ollivander won't break our cover."

"That wouldn't make a bit of difference," Hermione objected hotly, "The moment we take him to Diagon Alley, there will be a riot. People still fawn over him. We've just had Memorial Day for Merlin's sake! The Ministry would want him under their thumb in a heartbeat, and Dumbledore would probably want a go at him too! We can't let that happen - you know how hard he's worked to make a life for himself here, and to force him to give all that up to be a figurehead…"

"Hermione!" Ron shouted to shut her up and she stopped mid speech, shocked. He took a deep breath and continued more quietly, his throat feeling a little raw, "There is no way on Merlin's staff that I'd ask Harry to reveal himself to the Ministry or our world. He's happy here, and that's how it will stay. However he doesn't need to be visible in order to walk through Diagon Alley."

"All the Invisibility cloaks at the Ministry have to be logged out. They're getting to be really rare now," Hermione reminded him, "And simply disillusioning him won't work. A lot of the stores have wards that extend out to the alley itself to prevent shop lifting."

"Mum and Dad practically stormed Hogwarts when the news about Harry broke," Ron reminded her, "Harry's school things are in our attic. His dads cloak is in his school trunk, and the Firebolt is in my old room on a rack I made for it at the end of sixth year. All I have to do is pop into the attic, grab the cloak and pop back. We'll Floo to the twins store, and walk to Ollivanders from there."

Hermione thought about this and then nodded. Ron stepped out into the hall politely and apparated to his mothers attic. He could hear Rose talking to her Nanny in the garden, and moved quickly through the dusty space in case the little girl heard him arrive and came looking. Even spider webs were merely shuddered at as he headed for the corner where Harry's things had been lovingly stored. He smiled at the familiar trunk, which was free of dust, and knelt down to open it. Harry's books and things were neatly stacked inside, as was his school uniform and Quidditch robes. One of the papers had accused the Weasley's of 'hoarding the Boy Who Liveds possessions in order to sell them at a later point', but the twins had seen to that. The paper had needed a few new offices built, and Molly hadn't been too vigorous about calling them off. He knew his parents had had a few offers from collectors who wanted a piece of Harry since that time, and each time they were turned down, no matter how large the sum was being offered.

The cloak was right where they'd left it and Ron shoved it into his magically expanded pocket before closing the lid again gently. Once they knew how Harry was coping with the return of his magic they'd have to offer his things back. Standing up once more, Ron took a deep breath and apparated to the Hutch, appearing in the laundry in a display of good manners and leaving the cloak on the table with their notes.

Hermione was in Harry's room, watching him sleep with a wistful expression on her face.

"He was never this peaceful at school," she whispered sadly and Ron nodded. The nightly torture of nightmares and unwanted visions had made Harry's sleep anything but restful. At times it had been frightening to hear his cries and know there was nothing they could do to ease his rest.

Ron tugged the pillow out of Harry's hands, having to fight for it. The man in the bed made displeased noises, searching for the object while still asleep. Ron slid onto the bed in the path of the wandering hands, and Harry touched him, patted him all over and then snuggled in with a contented murmur, all without waking up. Hermione snickered as Ron was treated like a teddy bear, but the red head didn't mind one bit. He watched his partner walk around to the other side of the bed and climb in, wrapping around Harry from behind. The sleeping man took her hand in his and sighed before lying still and silent once more. It was early, but Ron let himself doze off, unable to remember when he'd last been this content.

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	28. Shopping for Mayhem

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Shopping for Mayhem

Several of the patrons of the Alley looked twice at the sight of Ron and Hermione walking down the centre of the main thoroughfare carrying what appeared to be a long heavy lead box between them. The box was actually feather light, as Ron had conjured it that way, but it was wide enough to make shoppers get out of their way and leave a clear path for Harry, who was walking closely behind it.

They hadn't let him out of their grasp as they explained their theory and Hermione cast her spell over him once more. Harry had been shocked into tears, which he'd hidden in Ron's neck. It had taken the former Boy Who Lived a lot of time and effort to become content in his life as a Muggle and Ron felt very guilty that he was disturbing that hard won peace. Harry had bounced back after a while, just as he always did, and asked question after question, anxious to be told what was to become of him now that he was identified as their rogue.

Once they'd explained that he would be registered the moment he bought a new wand from Ollivander, Harry was champing at the bit to go. Ron had a feeling that Harry feared having someone from the Ministry turning up and locking him away. With a daughter to raise, and a life established comfortably here, that would be a terrifying prospect to the green eyed man. It had been all the could do to force some plain toast on their friend, whose appetite was bound to be very low for a while in the wake of his recent forced illness.

The door to Ollivander's loomed and Hermione pushed it open with one hand. Together they made something of a production out of getting into the store, which gave Harry time to enter as well, and once inside, Hermione cast the strongest privacy spell she knew, followed by Ron's instant security wards. Mr Ollivander appeared in the doorway that led into the back rooms and looked at them closely before lifting his own wand and adding the security of the stores main wards to theirs. Candles flared to life to light the shop as shutters rolled down over the windows and the blind on the door covered the glass.

"I take it that you wish to purchase a wand for the individual in the invisibility cloak?" Ollivanders voice was dry and humourless, and Ron watched as Harry let the cloak slither softly to the floor. Neither Auror was surprised that Ollivander knew Harry was there, as the man had unusually acute senses. He needed them for his work.

"Harry Potter," Ollivander whispered, his face showing all too clearly his shock, "I never thought I would see you again young man."

Ron cleared his throat softly and explained to the wand maker their theory, at the end of which Hermione performed her power and potential spell once more, the soft purple glow of Harry's magic lighting the dim interior of the dusty shop.

Mute, Harry held out his wand, still in its box and wrapped around with string that was knotted in complicated patterns. Ollivander took it with a grimace of distaste, putting the box on the edge of his shop counter and severing the string with a spell. He called up a small cleansing flame with a wave of his wand and then looked at Harry expectantly.

Harry picked the box up and took the wand out, running his fingers over it curiously. It looked exactly as Ron remembered and he shivered in dislike. Knowing what he now did, Ron couldn't believe that his friend had managed to handle something so tainted for so long without coming to actual harm. He was grateful that Harry was unharmed now, and echoed his friends soft sigh as the wand was cast into the flame. Hermione picked up the box lid, and Ron picked up the box itself, adding them to the flame to ensure that all traces of Harry's wand were obliterated.

Ollivander snapped his fingers as the flame died out and his measuring tape zoomed out of a drawer and started measuring Harry for a second time, poring over the content of his shelves as he did, mumbling about wood types and wand cores as he rummaged and the tape measured Harry's nose and arms length.

Wand after wand was handed to Harry, who waved them cautiously at an empty corner, not wanting to risk accidentally injuring someone with a focused blast of magic. Box after box piled up on the counter, each one containing a wand that didn't suit Harry.

"Even trickier than before, Mr Potter! Never mind, never mind, I've never failed to match a wand," Ollivander hopped off a ladder with more spring than someone his age usually showed, and shoved another wand into Harry's hand, snatching it back almost instantly and throwing the box onto the counter. After a solid hour of this, Harry was starting to look a little glazed and wilted when Ollivander crowed in triumph and shoved a long wand into his hand.

Instantly there was a glow at the tip, and Harry made a fountain of sparks shoot from the end, scattering across the floor in a colourful shower. Ollivander gave a cry of triumph, and Harry pointed his new wand at the lead box that Ron and Hermione had placed near the door.

"Wingardium Leviosa," his voice was calm, and the box rose obediently from the floor in response to his smooth swish and flick.

"Griffin feathers and balsa wood, twelve inches," Ollivander murmured softly, "A very rare combination. Godric Gryffindor himself favoured the balsa wood, and Rowena Ravenclaw's core was the same. Fascinating."

Harry shivered and put the wand gently back in its box. Ron had been told all about the little speech that Ollivander had made when Harry bought his first wand and was glad the wand wright chose not to make another. They'd all had enough of prophecies and curious coincidences to last them a lifetime.

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	29. Mad Bombers Abound

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Mad Bombers Abound

They'd gone from the wand shop to the Burrow, where Rose was very happy to see both her father and Ron. In fact she made almost as big a fuss over Ron as she did Harry. The Auror took this to be a good sign and settled with Rose on his lap while Harry hesitantly showed Molly his new wand.

Rose was delighted that her daddy had learned magic while she was away, and Ron caught his mother dabbing at her eyes as well. Harry was still looking rather tired, so Ron cut the visit ruthlessly short, explaining to his niece that they all had come over in their lunch times and had to get back to work now. Rose accepted the lie with equanimity, and Hermione went through the Floo first to steady a drooping Harry when he emerged into his own home. Ron was moments behind and together they cleaned all the soot off, a spell that Harry helped with, and headed upstairs for a nap. Ron was grateful that Harry had such a big bed and the three of them could fit onto it comfortably.

Harry was still on a bland diet as a precaution, so Ron made porridge with cream and sugar for dinner, which was followed by ice cream. Hermione disappeared after dinner to visit her dad and check on his healing ribs, and Ron persuaded Harry back into bed with the promise of a snogging session. The fact that the Cambridge professor fell asleep mid kiss was an indication of how exhausted he was, mentally and physically. Ron didn't mind, he just wrapped himself around the sleeping man once more and followed his example.

Hermione rejoined them for breakfast, which was scrambled eggs and toast, in keeping with Harry's bland diet. Now that their case was over, the Aurors planned to send the paperwork into the office today, and then check with the Muggle authorities to see if they had made any progress on catching the bomber. Just as they were arguing over who would go to work to fetch the papers and who would stay home with Harry - who was looking amused and a little gratified that they both wanted 'time' with him to themselves - when there was a terrific banging on the front door. For a moment, Ron thought that Peeves had somehow tracked them from Hogwarts after Hermione's emergency dash there earlier this week, but then the voices accompanying the banging got through to him.

Harry was already on his feet and heading for the front door, obviously recognising the voices as Ron followed him and tried to make sense of what they were saying. When he did realise his blood ran cold and he sent Hermione a fierce look, indicating that she should be at the ready.

"Bomb! Bomb!" Harry pulled the front door to the accompaniment of those shouts and two older Muggles burst in, the man grabbing Harry by the shoulders and shaking him hard, while the woman charged for the stairs, only to bounce off Ron and the unobtrusive blocking spell he'd set up. If there was a bomb he wasn't going to let the Muggle run further into the house and if there weren't then it would not be prudent to allow her further in to spread more mayhem.

"Where's Sarah?" she cried, even as she staggered to keep her feet, "We've got to get her out of here!"

"She's at my mothers," Harry snapped, breaking the hold the man had on him, "She's safe."

Even as he snapped at the couple that Ron had identified as Rose's maternal grandparents, Harry was ushering them outside, his robe flapping over his thin pyjamas. Hermione had called the Muggle authorities and joined Ron in searching the area for the threat. They located a cardboard box shoved against the front steps and gingerly pulled the top open, revealing a burning fuse and a collection of bright yellow tubes. Ron extinguished the fuse with a quick spell and Hermione put a containment charm on the box.

By this time Harry was standing in the middle of the street with his erstwhile in-laws and a collection of neighbours who had heard the fracas and exited their own homes to see what was going on.

"All clear!" Ron called from the front steps and then went to Harry's side. Harry had left his wand upstairs, and was bare foot as the house was warm enough with the doors shut. He was shivering and Ron hit him with a sneaky warming charm, which earned him a grateful look. Mr and Mrs Gardener were glaring about, their neat suits and expensive coats very out of place among the mismatched clothing of the neighbours. Harry's neighbour hood was comfortable and unpretentious. People got on with it and left their neighbours to do the same, although the distance was not unfriendly.

"Young man, you cannot possibly expect us to leave Sarah in your care any longer," Mr Gardener barked suddenly, making a lot of people jump, Harry included, "It's far too dangerous for her to remain anywhere near you. I insist you give to us at once!"

"Her name is Rose," Harry's face was pinched and his hands were clenched in fists in the folds of his robe, "And she is perfectly safe at Mums at the moment. I sent her there when I realised the nature of the threat."

A Muggle car with a light on the roof and a blaring siren burst around the corner and everyone got out of the way in a hurry. Ron made sure he stayed at Harry's side, sensing that this confrontation was only just beginning. Several other noisy cars followed and Ron noticed out of the corner of his eye that Hermione was directing them to the bomb, and Inspector Parker was hurrying towards Harry and the Gardeners.

"Mother! You're an orphan! You've got no past, no family standing and no right to keep Sarah from us!" Mrs Gardener shouted, her face red and as ugly as the words she was spitting out like hexes, "We are her grandparents and we have every right to remove her from a dangerous situation!"

"My foster mother, then," Harry's voice was calm by an effort of sheer will, and Ron was impressed that his friend wasn't shouting in return. He would have been, which was why he kept his mouth shut and stood close for morale support. This was Harry's fight, though Ron was prepared to stand by him no matter what.

"Foster mother! You told us that you had no contact with your family at all! What other lies have you told us? You have lied and now you're endangering Sarah with whatever this is! I insist upon seeing her at once!" Mr Gardener waved his arms for emphasis and Ron had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from smiling at the ridiculous picture he made. The situation was far too serious for humour, and Harry needed his friends to be sombre now.

"How can we trust that the paternity test results were true if you've lied to us about not having contact with your former foster family? You will submit to further testing at once, and in the meantime, Sarah will stay with us. There can be no question that she is our grand daughter, no matter what her father was!" Mrs Gardener sneered and the colour that Harry had gained since he'd left hospital drained away from his face in mere seconds.

"You will take my daughter from my cold dead arms, and not before. As to a second paternity test… talk to my solicitor," Harry's voice was laden with cold threat and both Gardeners stepped back from the sheer fury in his eyes. Though they didn't know it, this was a man who had survived against incredible odds in the face of mortal danger. The glare he was using now had all the power of Harry's past experience and horrors. Ron put a hand on Harry's arm, more to remind him of his presence than restrain him and Parker, who had been standing silently to one side all this time, spoke up.

"There was no question of the veracity of the results," he said calmly, "And as to the identity and motive of the person targeting the Professor, we have a suspect in custody."

"Obviously not the right one," Mrs Gardener exclaimed, "They left a bomb on the front door step! If they had been in custody then the bomb would not have been there."

Parker smiled coldly, and even Harry shivered in response to that look. Snape would have been impressed had he been there to see it, and as Harry knew from personal experience Snape could give a person frostbite with a single smile.

"The person targeting the Professor didn't leave that particular device," Parker gestured and a couple of Muggle Aurors stepped forward and began ushering the Gardeners into cars, ignoring their protests and threats. Parker turned to Harry.

"Your neighbours confirmed to me that the Gardeners lingered with a box at your door for a moment before raising the alarm. I'd suggest that wherever Miss Potter is at the moment she stays there until this can all be sorted out," Parker murmured gently, "If you'd care to get dressed and come to the station when you're ready, sir, that would be most appreciated. I'll contact your solicitor on my way to the station, and have her meet you there. The house has been cleared as safe."

"Thank you," Harry mumbled, and Ron took his hand gently squeezing it. That got the red head a smile as Parker headed for his car. Hermione came up on Harry's other side and looked at him anxiously. He put an arm around her waist and the three of them watched the Gardeners and the Muggle Aurors drive away.

"Come on Harry," she said after a moment, "The sooner we sort this out the sooner we can go to the Burrow."

Ron smiled his thanks at his friend as Harry cheered up a bit and led them both back into the Hutch to dress and prepare.

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	30. Surprise Surprise

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Surprise, surprise!

The woman that stepped forward to shake Harry's hand was very attractive, and obviously had an eye for Harry himself. The Cambridge professor introduced her as his Solicitor, a shorthaired brunette by the name of Katie Green, and she smiled rather perfunctorily at Hermione before beaming at Ron. He had an overwhelming urge to tell her he was gay just to get her to stop eyeing him like that and Hermione snickered under her breath, no doubt reading his mind.

"Katie helped me with the paternity defence," Harry explained before turning back to the petite woman, "Did Parker give you any details?"

"Just that the Gardeners were demanding a retest and custody," she replied with a light shrug, "I have no doubt that this new test will come out in our favour, but the charges of reckless endangerment are more serious. If they can get a judge to agree that your life style is endangering your daughter they can get temporary custody at the very least, and then stonewall us to keep it up."

"I'm a teacher," Harry dragged a hand through his hair, "How is my life style a danger to Rosebud? This is insane, it's too much."

"Let's not cross our bridges before we get to them," Hermione counselled, "The first thing is to find out what the Gardeners were doing with that box. If they actually planted the device at your front door there is no way they'd be able to seek custody of Rose."

"And seeing as they've only been here for a few minutes, we'll have to wait a bit to let Inspector Parker sort this out," Ron pointed to the visitors chairs in the lobby and he and Hermione smoothly bracketed Harry, steering hi mover to the chairs and sitting down, cutting Katie off without a second thought. The former Boy Who Lived needed the sort of support that only close friends could give now.

After twenty minutes of desultory chat, Parker came out from the warren of offices and interview rooms with a grim look on his face.

"We've got the results of the fingerprint tests from the box and the device," he told Ron, who had stood up to meet him, "Based on the witness accounts I had it rushed through. It's the Gardener's all right. Their fingerprints are all over it, and there is enough trace evidence to tie them to it given time. It looks like a rather desperate bid to get Rose into their sole custody."

"So we've got them? There's no chance they'll take my Rose away?" Harry's voice was tense and Parker nodded in confirmation, smiling when Harry whooshed out a huge sigh of relief and slumped against the chair back. Ron grinned and dropped a hand onto his friends shoulder, squeezing his relief.

"There is of course the matter of the suspect we have in custody for the public bombings," Parker continued, his unease not lightening at all in the wake of his good news, and Ron felt Harry tense up again.

"Who is it, Inspector?" Hermione drew the Muggles attention away from Harry, and he sighed, frowning a little.

"It's a man by the name of Dudley Dursley. He's got a jacket for some minor stuff, mainly involving GBH, but this is the first time he's done something so… major. We're looking into his past a bit more closely, trying to see why he's chosen Professor Potter as a target."

"He's my cousin, I lived with them after my parents were murdered, and during the summer holidays when I went away to school," Harry's voice was shocked, "Dudley was always a bully, but I can't imagine him doing this!"

"Unfortunately he's silent on the whole manner. We could barely get his name from him," Parker sighed, "His lawyer advised him not to say anything to us, and he's taken that advice to heart. I've got a couple of my DC's in there now, trying to get him to talk."

"Let me have a go. If someone from Harry's past shows up he might be more inclined to boast," Ron said quickly, and Parker looked at him for a long moment before nodding. Ron knew Dudley would talk because he was afraid of magic and was afraid he'd be hexed again. Harry looked up at Ron questioningly and he squeezed the shoulder he still held before letting go and following Parker down the hall. He knew without asking that Hermione would get rid of Harry's solicitor and then cast a charm that would let his friends hear what was being said. Harry deserved answers, and Ron was going to get them for him.

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	31. A Friendly Chat Between Friends

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A friendly chat between old friends

As a teenager, Dudley Dursley had been a whale of a boy with small stupid piggish eyes. That blubber had been converted into a very solid looking muscle mass, and while his eyes were still piggish there was a look of cunning in them that was totally unexpected. Right now he was trying to figure out who Ron was, while his lawyer protested the Aurors presence as unnecessary and an intimidation tactic. In the end Parker dismissed the two detectives and sat in as the observer himself.

"Long time no see, Dudders," Ron sprawled in his hard chair, smiling lazily at the man opposite him, "You've lost a good bit of weight."

"What's that got to do with anything?" the lawyer barked, and Ron flicked him a mild glance that had the man opening and closing his mouth in shock. If this Muggle was responsible for Harry's near misses then the lawyer would do well to keep his mouth shut or Ron would shut it for him.

"You might not remember me too well. The last time we met I was picking Harry up from your place with my dad and brothers. One of the twins dropped a sweet that made your tongue swell up," Ron watched in satisfaction as Dudley paled and leaned back in his chair as if trying to distance himself further from Ron.

"You're one of his lot! But you got rid of him! He was too much of a freak even for your wacky bunch!" Dudley spluttered and Ron was suddenly sitting up ramrod straight, his finger pointed squarely between Dudley's eyes.

"He is no freak, and you were wrong, Dudders," the nickname sounded very strange when uttered in a deadly soft voice, "You mind your manners."

Dudley nodded and leaned back even further. Ron resumed his lazy sprawl while the lawyer spluttered and expostulated pointlessly. Ron smiled and winked at the very disconcerted Muggle opposite him, and turned his head to look at Parker. The Inspector picked up on his intention and started questioning Dudley about his activities and involvement in the current rash of bombings. Ron merely sat and watched Dudley from the corner of his eyes, and every time the Muggle hemmed and hawed he'd shift in his chair and the confession would resume. The lawyer gave up on trying to shut his client up, and they listened as it was all laid out neatly.

"Very well Mr Dursley," Parker said at the end, "We know how you did it. What you haven't told us is why."

Dudley shot an uneasy look at Ron who raised his eyebrows in an I-am-waiting expression. Dudley heaved a sigh and looked at the tabletop.

"Money," Dudley mumbled, "He's got a fortune he never shared with us when we took him in, and it's time he shared. If he died then we'd be the sole family and be able to take over his assets. If the kid died too, all the better. The problem was I couldn't bomb the house, because I didn't want it damaged."

Ron felt a white-hot surge of rage and shifted in his seat. Dudley looked up and leaned so far back in his chair to get away from the murderous expression on Ron's face that he fell over. There was a lot of shouting and rushing about and when it was over Ron was outside with his hand buried in the wall where he'd punched it rather than punching the Muggle, and Harry was wrapped around him, preventing him from drawing his fist back and punching the wall again. Ron could feel the anger in Harry's body and released his tension with a gusting sigh. It wasn't fair to make Harry control Ron's temper when his own was just as roused.

Hermione was there, her wand discreetly in her hand, healing his and fixing the wall with a quick charm as Ron turned in Harry's arms and held his partner close. Harry was swearing softly and steadily and Hermione joined the hug after a moment, adding her own imprecations to Harry's.

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	32. Moving Day

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Moving Day

"Ron, where does this box go?" Fred hollered from the dining room and Ron suppressed a very improper reply, conscious of the little girl that was clinging to his back like a limpet. Harry would smack him one if he taught her another swear word - it was bad enough that she'd shouted 'bugger' in the playground at nursery school the other day when she'd stubbed her toe.

"Put it in the attic with all the others," Ron replied and carried his burden out into the front garden where her daddy was working. She swung to the ground with the ease of two months practice and trotted over to supervise the painting of the garden gate.

They had decided in the end to leave the main part of the house untouched. Harry had not turned back into a Wizard over night, despite confirmation of the return of his magical abilities. After long discussions and much thought, Harry had decided to remain in his job and his home, rather than returning to the Wizarding world and the political games that his arrival would inspire. As Harry was continuing to live as a Muggle that meant that his friends would continue to pop around when they felt like it. Ron had been welcomed into that circle, and Harry had explained that the Auror worked as a field consultant in law and order. The cover story was a good one, as Ron had a legitimate excuse for not talking about his work, and Harry's friends soon learned not to bother asking beyond the usual polite inanities.

It had taken Ron and Harry two months to change the attic. That part of the house was one that the Muggles had never accessed, so any changes there would go unnoticed. They'd added a storey to the house, and built Ron a study of his own, with all his magical instruments proudly displayed. Harry's school things had joined them, and they'd set up a potions brewing area, as well. Harry had said quietly that he was determined to give Rose a head start in that subject as Snape was sure to penalise her for her parentage. That would wait until she was eight.

Ron had put off moving in until the attic was completed and Rose accustomed to him. He spent the majority of his nights at the Hutch, actually pining when he was separated from his lover for a night or so. Rose had eventually asked when he was moving in properly, and that had been the sign they were waiting for. It was her house too, and she would have to share her father's attentions with Ron once he moved in. She didn't seem to mind.

Ron had accompanied his new family to London for the biannual shopping trip, and they'd had fun. He'd learned a lot about the Muggle world from Hermione over the intervening years and could fit in well enough not to be stared at or locked up, and the day had been a real eye opener to him over the parenting style of Harry Potter.

No meant no, and though Harry asked her opinion and gave her choices, those choices were limited to what her father felt were safe for a child her age. Ron was given equal standing as a parent, and he did his best not to undermine anything Harry said. Once the nearly four year old had gone to sleep he'd sat Harry down and asked a thousand and one questions, making it clear that he wanted to parent Rose the right way, not in opposition to his lover. He'd been shagged almost into a coma as a result of that discussion, and had made Harry promise that they would always talk things through no matter what. Their love was too precious to ruin over a misunderstanding, especially as they'd already missed ten years together.

Rose was thriving. The Weasley's had welcomed her with open arms, and she had returned the gesture whole-heartedly. With the presence of Nanny and her Aunties in her life, she no longer lacked the female guidance and touches that Harry couldn't provide; no matter how much he loved her. She had quickly come to realise that Magic was for the Burrow, and home was normal. The fact that Harry wasn't pulling his wand out at the least excuse only reinforced that - her daddy wasn't doing anything differently to before.

Her birthday had been and gone, with two parties - one for the family and one for her friends. That had been an eye opener, as a houseful of four year olds could make an incredible amount of noise and mess when they put their minds to it. Hedwig had retreated to her custom built perch in the attic, along with the always-excited Pigwidgeon.

Ron directed the last of the boxes up into the attic and thanked the twins, wondering how many pranks they'd secreted among the contents. He made a mental note to ensure that Harry did his share of the unpacking and to have a camera handy when he did. The twins tumbled outside to say goodbye to Rose and interfere with Harry's painting, coming back inside with identical stripes of paint in their hair and expressions that were far to cheerful given the difficulty they'd have getting it all out.

"Good aim," Ron complimented Harry as he came in with Rose giggling in his arms. Harry grinned and winked at them both before pretending to throw his daughter to Ron - a sneaky levitation charm keeping her safe - and heading upstairs to clean himself up.

"Hey mum? Can we have an iced lolly now? You promised we could once all the boxes were upstairs," Rose reminded him and he grinned, carrying her into the kitchen before plonking her onto the floor and heading for the Muggle cold box in the laundry to honour his earlier promise. It wasn't until he was shoulder deep in the contraption that his mind caught up with his ears.

"Wait a minute? What did you call me? HAAAAAAARRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEE!"

End


End file.
